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DAVI!)    J.   KAN  NKV. 


Dave  Ranney 

OR 

THIRTY  YEARS 
ON  THE  BOWERY 


An    Autobiography 


Introduction  by 
Rev.  A.  F.  Schauffier,  D.  D. 


AMERICAN      TRACT      SOCIETY 

150    Nassau    Street  New   York 


Copyright,  1910 
By  American  Tract  Society 


8V 
mo 


This  story  of  my  life  is  dedicated  to 

Dr.  a.  F.  Schauffler 
Who  stuck  by  me  through  thick  and  thin 


1455918 


Honest  endeavor  is  ne'er  thrown  away; 
God  gathers  the  failures  day  by  day, 
And  weaves  them  into  His  perfect  plan 
In  ways  that  are  not  for  us  to  scan. 

— JLucy  Whittemore.  Myrick,  1876. 


INTRODUCTION 

The  autobiograpHy  which  this  book 
contains  is  that  of  a  man  who  through  the 
wonderful  dealings  of  Providence  has  had 
a  most  remarkable  experience.  I  have 
known  the  writer  for  about  seventeen 
years,  and  always  most  favorably.  For  a 
number  of  years  past  he  has  been  Bowery 
JNIissionary  for  the  New  York  City  Mis- 
sion and  Tract  Society,  and  has  shown 
himself  faithful,  capable  and  conscien- 
tious. His  story  simply  illustrates  how 
the  gospel  of  the  grace  of  God  can  go 
down  as  far  as  man  can  fall,  and  can  up- 
lift, purify,  and  beautify  that  which  was 
degraded  and  "well  nigh  unto  cursing." 

As  a  testimony  as  to  what  God  can 
work,  and  how  He  can  transform  a  man 
from  being  a  curse  to  himself  and  to  the 
world  into  being  a  blessing,  the  story  is 
certainly  fascinating,  and  ought  to  en- 


6  Introduction 

courage  any  who  have  lost  hope  to  turn 
to  Him  who  alone  is  able  to  save.  It 
ought  also  to  encourage  all  workers  for 
the  downfallen  to  realize  that  God  is  able 
to  save  unto  the  uttermost  all  who  come 
to  Him  through  Jesus  Christ,  the  all- 
sufficient  Saviour. 

With  confidence  I  recommend  this  book 
to  those  who  are  interested  in  the  rescue 
of  the  fallen,  knowing  that  they  will 
praise  God  for  what  has  been  wrought 
and  will  trust  Him  for  future  wonderful 
redemptions. 

A.  F.   SCHAUFFLER. 

New  York  City. 


CONTENTS 

CHAFTEB  PAGE 

Introduction         .      .      .     r.;     ..     ..  5 

I.    Boyhood  Days       ......  9 

II.    First  Steps  in  Crime      ....  25 

III.  Into  the  Depths 51 

IV.  "  Saved  by  Grace  " 64 

V.    On  the  Up  Grade 81 

VI.    Promoted 99 

VII.    The  Mission  in  Chinatown      .      .  124 

VIII.    Bowery  Work 147 

IX.    Prodigal  Sons 181 


Let  me  live  in  a  house  hy  the  side  of  the 

road. 
Where  the  race  of  men  go  hy. 
Men  that  are  good  and  men  that  are 

had,  as  good  and  as  had  as  I, 
I  would  not  sit  in  the  scornefs  seat. 
Nor  hurl  the  cynic  s  han. 
Let  me  live  in  a  house  hy  the  side  of 

the  road 
And  he  a  friend  to  man," 


DAVE   RANNEY 

CHAPTER   I 

BOYHOOD  DAYS 

T  HAVE  often  been  asked  the  question, 
-■■  "  \^aiy  don't  you  write  a  book?"  And 
I  have  said,  "What  is  the  use?  What 
good  will  it  do?"  I  have  thought  about 
it  time  and  time  again,  and  have  come  to 
the  conclusion  to  write  a  story  of  my  life, 
the  good  and  the  bad,  and  if  the  story  will 
be  a  help,  and  check  some  one  that's  just 
going  wrong,  set  him  thinking,  and  point 
him  on  the  right  road,  praise  God ! 

I  was  born  in  Hudson  City,  N.  J.,  over 
forty  years  ago,  when  there  were  not  as 
many  houses  in  that  town  as  there  are 
now.  I  was  bom  in  old  Dutch  Row,  now 
called  Beacon  Avenue,  in  a  two-story 
frame  house.  In  those  days  there  was 
an  Irish  Row  and  a  Dutch  Row.     The 


10  Dave    Ranney 

Irish  lived  by  themselves,  and  the  Dutch 
by  themselves. 

Quite  frequently  the  boys  of  the  two 
colonies  would  have  a  battle  royal,  and 
there  would  be  things  doing.  Sometimes 
the  Dutch  would  win  out,  sometimes  the 
Irish,  and  many's  the  time  there  was  a  cut 
head  and  other  bruises.  Sometimes  a 
prisoner  would  be  taken,  and  then  we 
would  play  Indian  with  him,  and  do 
everything  with  him  except  burn  him.  We 
were  all  boys  born  in  America,  but  if  we 
lived  in  Dutch  Row,  why,  we  had  to  be 
Dutch ;  but  if,  on  the  other  hand,  we  hap- 
pened to  live  in  Irish  Row,  we  had  to  be 
Irish.  I  remember  moving  one  time  to 
Irish  Row,  and  I  wondered  what  would 
happen  when  I  went  to  play  with  the  old 
crowd.  They  said,  "  Go  and  stay  with 
the  Irish."  I  did  not  know  what  to  do. 
I  would  not  fight  my  old  comrades,  so  I 
was  neutral  and  fought  with  neither. 

We  had  a  good  many  ring  battles  in 
those  days,  and  many's  the  fight  we  had 


Boyhood    Days  11 

without  gloves,  and  many's  the  black  eye 
I  got,  and  also  gave  a  few.  I  believe 
nothing  does  a  boy  or  girl  so  much  good 
as  lots  of  play  in  the  open  air.  I  never 
had  a  serious  sickness  in  my  life  except 
the  measles,  and  that  was  easy,  for  I  was 
up  before  the  doctor  said  I  ought  to  get 
out  of  bed.  Those  were  happy  days,  and 
little  did  I  think  then  that  I  would  become 
the  hard  man  I  turned  out  to  be. 

I  had  a  good  Christian  mother,  one  who 
loved  her  boy  and  thought  there  was 
nothing  too  good  for  him,  and  I  could 
always  jolly  her  into  getting  me  anything 
I  wanted.  God  bless  the  mothers  I  How 
true  the  saying  is,  "  A  boy's  best  friend  is 
his  mother."  My  father  I  won't  say  so 
much  about.  He  was  a  rough  man  who 
loved  his  cups,  and  died,  as  you  might  say, 
a  young  man  through  his  own  wayward- 
ness. I  did  love  my  mother,  and  would 
give  anything  now  to  have  her  here  with 
me  as  I  am  writing  this  story.  She  has 
gone  to  heaven,  and  I  was  the  means  of 


12  Dave    Ranney 

sending  her  to  an  early  grave  through  my 
wrong-doings.  She  did  not  live  to  see 
her  boy  saved.  Many's  the  time  I  would 
promise  her  to  lead  a  different  life,  and  I 
meant  it  too,  but  after  all  I  could  not  give 
up  my  evil  ways. 

THE  FIRST   TASTE  FOR  DRINK 

I  remember  when  I  first  acquired  the 
taste  for  drink.  JMy  grandfather  lived 
with  us,  and  he  liked  his  mixed  ale  and 
would  send  me  for  a  pint  two  or  three 
times  a  day.  In  those  days  the  beer  was 
weighed  so  many  pounds  to  the  quart. 
Every  time  I  went  for  the  beer  I  used  to 
take  a  swallow  before  I  came  back,  and 
sometimes  two,  and  after  a  while  I  really 
began  to  enjoy  it.  Do  you  know,  I  was 
laying  the  foundation  right  there  and 
then  for  being  what  I  turned  out  to  be — ■ 
a  drunkard.  I  remember  one  time — yes, 
lots  of  times — that  I  was  under  the  influ- 
ence of  the  vile  stuff  when  I  was  not  more 
than  ten  years  of  age. 


Boyhood    Days  13 

I  received  a  public  school  education. 
My  school-days  were  grand  good  days.  I 
had  all  the  sport  that  comes  to  any  boy 
going  to  school.  I  would  rather  play  ball 
than  go  home  to  dinner.  In  those  days  the 
game  was  different  from  what  it  is  at  the 
present  time.  I  was  up  in  all  athletic 
sports  when  I  was  a  boy.  I  could  jump 
three  quick  jumps  and  go  twenty-eight 
and  a  half  feet ;  that  was  considered  great 
for  a  schoolboy. 

There  was  one  game  I  really  did  enjoy; 
the  name  of  it  was  "How  many  miles?'* 
It  is  played  something  like  this:  You 
choose  sides,  and  it  doesn't  matter  how 
many  there  are  on  a  side.  Of  course  each 
side  would  be  eager  to  get  the  quickest 
and  fastest  runner  on  their  side.  How  I 
did  like  that  game!  We  then  tossed  to 
see  who  would  be  the  outs  and  who  would 
chase  the  outs,  and  many's  the  mile  we 
boys  would  run.  We  would  be  late  for 
school  and  would  be  kept  in  after  three 
o'clock;  that  would  break  my  heart,  but  I 


14  Dave    Ranney 

would  forget  all  about  it  the  next  day  and 
do  the  same  thing  again. 

Our  teacher,  J.  W.  Wakeman — God 
bless  him  I — is  living  yet,  and  I  hope  he 
will  live  a  good  many  years  more.  A  boy 
doesn't  always  like  his  teacher,  and  I  was 
no  exception;  I  did  not  like  him  very 
much.  He  gave  me  more  whippings  than 
any  other  boy  in  the  school.  All  the  learn- 
ing I  received  was,  you  might  say, 
pounded  into  me.  He  used  to  say  to  me, 
"  David,  why  don't  you  be  good  and  study 
your  lessons?  There  is  the  making  of  a 
man  in  you,  but  if  you  don't  study  you 
will  be  fit  for  nothing  else  than  the  pick 
and  shovel."  How  those  words  rang  in 
my  ears  many  a  time  in  after  years  when 
they  came  true,  when  I  had  to  use  the  pick 
and  shovel  I  I  am  not  saying  anything 
against  that  sort  of  labor ;  it  has  its  place. 
We  must  fill  in  somewhere,  in  some 
groove,  but  that  was  not  mine. 

How  I  did  enjoy  in  after  years,  when 
I  was  roaming  over  the  world,  thinking 


Boyhood    Days  15 

of  my  old  schoolmates !  I  could  name  over 
a  dozen  who  were  filling  positions  of  trust 
in  their,  own  city;  lawyers,  surrogates, 
judges,  and  some  in  business  for  them- 
selves, making  a  name  and  doing  some- 
thing, while  I  was  no  earthly  use  to  my- 
self or  to  any  one  else.  Some  people  say, 
*'  Such  is  life ;  as  you  make  your  bed  so 
you  must  lie."  How  true  it  was  in  my 
case  I  I  made  my  bed  and  had  to  lie  on  it, 
but  I  can  truthfully  say  I  did  not  en- 
joy it. 

There  are  many  men  that  are  down  and 
out  now  who  had  a  chance  to  be  splendid 
men.  They  are  now  on  the  Bowery 
"carrying  the  banner" — which  means 
walking  the  streets  without  a  place  to  call 
home — without  food  or  shelter,  but  they 
could,  if  they  looked  back  to  their  early 
life,  see  that  they  were  making  their  beds 
then,  or  as  the  Bible  reads,  sowing  the 
seed.  Listen^  young  people,  and  take 
heed.  Don't  believe  the  saying,  "A  fel- 
low must  sow  his  wild  oats."    The  truth 


16  Dave    Hanney 

is  just  this:  as  you  sow  so  shall  you  reap. 
I  was  sowing  when  I  was  drinking  out  of 
the  pail  of  beer,  and  I  surely  did  reap  the 
drunkard's  portion — misery. 

A  TRUANT 

I  was  a  great  hand  at  playing  hookey 
— ^that  is,  staying  away  from  school  and 
not  telling  your  parents.  I  would  start 
for  school  in  the  morning,  but  instead  of 
going  would  meet  a  couple  of  boys  and 
we  would  hide  our  books  until  closing- 
time.  If  any  boy  was  sent  to  my  home 
with  a  note,  I  would  see  that  boy  and  tell 
him  if  he  went  he  knew  what  he  would  get. 
He  knew  it  meant  a  good  punching,  and 
he  would  not  go.  I  would  write  a  note 
so  that  the  boy  could  take  it  back  to  the 
teacher  saying  that  I  was  sick  and  would 
be  at  school  when  I  got  better. 

I  remember  how  I  was  found  out  one 
time.  We  met  as  usual — the  hookey-play- 
ers, I  mean — and  started  down  to  the 
Hackensack  River  to  have  a  good  day. 


Boyhood    Days  17 

Little  did  I  know  what  would  happen  be- 
fore the  day  was  over.  One  of  the  boys 
with  us  went  out  beyond  his  depth  and 
was  drowned.  I  can  still  hear  his  cries 
and  see  his  face  as  he  sank  for  the  last 
time.  We  all  could  swim  a  little,  and  we 
tried  our  best  to  save  him,  but  his  time 
had  come. 

That  wound  up  his  hookey-playing,  and 
you  would  think  it  would  make  me  stop 
too ;  but  no,  I  went  right  along  sowing  the 
seed,  and  planting  it  good  and  deep  for 
the  Devil. 

I  recollect  the  first  time  I  went  away 
from  home.  It  happened  this  way :  The 
teacher  got  tired  of  receiving  notes  saying 
I  was  sick,  and  she  determined  to  see  for 
herself — for  I  had  a  lady  for  teacher  in 
that  class — what  the  trouble  was. 

One  afternoon  whom  should  I  see  com- 
ing in  the  gate  but  my  teacher,  and  now 
I  was  in  a  fix  for  fair.  I  knew  if  she  saw 
mother  it  was  all  up  with  me,  so  I  ran  and 
met  her  and  told  her  mother  was  out  and 


18  Dave    Ranney 

would  not  be  back  until  late.  She  asked 
me  how  I  was  getting  on.  I  said  I  was 
better  and  would  be  at  school  in  the  morn- 
ing.   She  said,  "  I  am  glad  of  that." 

When  she  turned  to  go  I  could  have 
flung  my  cap  in  the  air  and  shouted.  I 
thought  I  had  fooled  her  and  could  go  on 
playing  hookey,  but  you  know  the  old 
adage,  "  There's  many  a  slip."  Just  at 
this  time  my  mother  looked  out  of  the 
window  and  asked  who  was  there  and  what 
she  wanted.  Well,  mother  came  down, 
and  things  were  made  straight  as  far  as 
she  and  the  teacher  were  concerned;  but 
I  was  in  for  it;  I  knew  that  by  the  way 
mother  looked  at  me.  The  jig  was  up,  I 
was  found  out,  and  I  knew  things  would 
happen;  and  I  did  not  want  to  be  around 
when  mother  said,  "You  just  wait!"  I 
knew  what  that  meant,  so  I  determined  to 
go  out  into  the  world  and  make  my  own 
way. 

I  was  a  little  over  thirteen  years  of  age, 
and  you  know  a  boy  does  not  know  much 


Boyhood    Days  19 

at  that  age,  but  I  thought  I  did.  I  went 
over  the  fence  with  mother  after  me.  If 
dad  had  been  home  I  guess  he  could  have 
caught  me,  that  is  if  he  had  been  sober. 
Mother  could  not  run  very  fast,  so  I  got 
clear  of  the  whip  for  that  time  at  least.  I 
got  a  good  distance  from  the  house  and 
then  I  sat  down  to  think.  I  knew  if  I 
went  home  a  whipping  was  waiting  for 
me,  and  that  I  could  do  without. 

There  was  a  boy  just  a  little  older  than 

myself,  Mike  ,*  that  was  "on  the 

bum,"  as  we  used  to  say.  The  boys  would 
give  him  some  of  the  lunch  they  had 
brought  to  school,  and  I  thought  I  would 
join  forces  with  and  be  his  pal.  I  saw 
Mike  and  told  him  all  about  the  licking, 
and  Mike  said,  "Don't  go  home;  you  are 
a  fool  if  you  do."  We  went  around,  and  I 
was  getting  hungry,  when  we  thought  of 
a  plan  by  which  we  could  get  something 
to  eat.     Mother  ran  a  book  in  a  grocery 

*  Where  proper  names  are  left  blank  they  refer  to  real 
persons  or  places. 


20  Dave    Ranney 

store,  and  Mike  said,  "  Go  to  the  store  and 
get  a  few  things,  and  say  you  don't  have 
the  book  but  will  bring  it  when  you  come 
again."  I  went  to  the  store  and  got  a 
ham,  a  pound  of  butter,  two  loaves  of 
bread  and  one  box  of  sardines. 

Some  people  will  ask  how  I  can  remem- 
ber so  many  years  back.  I  remember  my 
first  night  away  from  home  as  though  it 
was  yesterday,  and  I'll  never  forget  it  as 
long  as  I  live.  After  I  got  the  things  the 
grocer  said,  "  Where  is  the  book? "  I  told 
him  mother  had  mislaid  it,  and  he  said, 
"  Bring  it  the  next  time."  We  built  a 
fire  and  cooked  the  ham  and  had  lots  to 
eat. 

Up  to  this  time  it  had  all  been  smooth 
sailing;  it  was  warm  and  we  had  a  good 
time  in  general.  We  had  a  swim  with  some 
other  boys,  and  after  telling  them  not  to 
say  that  they  saw  me,  we  left  them.  I 
asked  Mike  where  we  were  going  to  sleep, 
and  he  said,  "I'll  show  you  when  it's 
time." 


Boyhood    Days  21 

After  a  while  Mike  said,  "  I  guess  we 
had  better  go  to  bed."  Off  we  started 
across  the  lots  until  we  came  to  a  big  hay- 
stack, and  Mike  stooped  down  and  began 
to  pull  hay  out  of  the  stack  and  work  his 
way  inside.  Remember  I  was  green  at 
the  business ;  I  had  never  been  away  from 
home  before;  and  Mike,  though  only  a 
little  older,  was  used  to  this  kind  of  life. 
Well,  I  pulled  out  hay  enough,  as  I 
thought,  and  crawled  in,  but  there  was  no 
sleep  for  me.  I  kept  thinking  and  think- 
ing. I  would  call  Mike  and  ask  him  if  he 
was  asleep,  and  he  would  say,  "  Oh,  shut 
up  and  let  a  fellow  sleep!" 

I  am  no  coward,  never  was,  but  I  was 
scared  that  night  for  fair.  About  mid- 
night I  must  have  dozed  off  to  sleep  when 
something  seemed  to  be  pushing  at  my 
feet.  I  was  wide  awake  now,  and  shook 
]Mike,  but  he  only  turned  over  and  seemed 
to  sleep  all  the  sounder.  I  could  hear  the 
grunting  and  pushing  outside  all  the  time. 
JNIy  head  was  under  and  my  feet  covered 


22  Dave    Ranney 

with  the  hay,  when  something  took  hold 
of  my  foot  and  began  to  chew.  My  hair 
stood  on  end,  and  I  gave  a  yell  that  would 
have  awakened  "  The  Seven  Sleepers." 
It  woke  Mike,  and  the  last  I  heard  of  him 
that  night  he  was  laughing  as  though  he 
would  split  his  sides,  and  all  he  could  shout 
was,  "Pigs,  pigs!"  as  I  went  flying  to- 
ward home.  I  got  there  as  soon  as  my 
feet  would  carry  me.  I  found  the  house 
up  and  mother  and  sister  crying,  while 
father  was  trying  to  make  them  stop. 
When  I  shook  the  door  it  opened  and  I 
was  home  again,  and  I  was  mighty  glad. 

The  reason  for  the  crying  was  that 
when  it  got  late  and  the  folks  began  to 
look  for  me,  one  of  the  boys  said  that  the 
last  time  he  saw  me  I  was  swimming  with 

Mike .    When  I  did  not  come  home 

they  thought  surely  I  was  drowned,  but  I 
was  born  for  a  difl'erent  fate.  Sometimes 
in  my  years  of  roaming  afterwards  I 
wished  I  had  been  drowned  as  they 
thought.  They  were  so  glad  to  see  me 
again  that  there  was  no  whijiping,  and  I 


Boyhood    Days  23 

went  to  school  next  morning  promising  to 
be  a  better  boy. 

A   BASEBALL   GAME 

I  was  fast  becoming  initiated  in  the 
wa5^s  of  the  Devil.  There  was  nothing 
that  I  would  not  do.  I  remember  one  time 
when  mother  thought  I  was  going  to 
school  but  found  out  I  was  "  on  the  hook." 
She  decided  to  punish  me,  and  that  night 
after  I  had  gone  to  sleep  she  came  into 
my  room  and  took  all  my  clothes  except 
my  shirt.  I  certainly  was  in  a  fix.  I  had 
to  catch  for  my  team  and  I  would  not  miss 
that  game  of  ball  for  anything  in  the 
world;  I  simply  had  to  go.  In  looking 
around  the  room  I  found  a  skirt  belong- 
ing to  my  sister  that  I  thought  would  an- 
swer my  purpose.  I  had  my  shirt  on  and 
I  put  the  skirt  on  over  my  head.  Then  I 
ripped  the  skirt  up  the  center  and  tied  it 
around  each  leg  with  a  piece  of  cord — 
anything  for  that  game ! — and  there  I  was 
with  a  pair  of  trousers  manufactured  out 
of  a  girl's  skirt.    But  I  had  to  catch  that 


24  Dave    Ranney 

game  of  ball  that  day  at  any  cost.  Get- 
ting to  the  ground  was  easy.  I  opened 
the  window  and  let  myself  down  as  far  as 
I  could  and  then  dropped.  I  arrived  all 
right,  a  little  shaken  up,  but  what  is  that 
to  a  boy  who  has  a  ball  game  in  his  head ! 

I  got  to  the  game  all  right  and  some  of 
the  boys  fixed  me  up.  I  don't  remember 
which  side  won  that  game,  but  when  it 
was  finished  I  went  home  and  met  mother, 
and  the  interview  was  not  a  pleasant  one, 
though  she  did  not  give  me  a  whipping. 

I  used  to  read  novels,  any  number  of 
them,  in  those  days — all  about  Indians, 
pirates,  and  all  those  blood-and-thunder 
tales — lies.  You  can  not  get  any  good 
out  of  them,  and  they  do  corrupt  your 
mind.  I  would  advise  the  young  people 
who  read  these  lines,  and  older  folks  also, 
if  this  is  your  style  of  reading,  to  stop 
right  where  3"ou  are.  Get  some  good  books 
— there  are  plenty  of  them — and  don't  fill 
your  mind  with  stuff  that  only  unfits  you 
for  the  real  life  of  the  years  to  come. 


CHAPTER  II 

FIRST  STEPS  IN  CRIME 

T  WAS  getting  tired  of  school  and 
wanted  to  go  to  work.  I  had  a  good 
Christian  man  for  my  Sunday-school 
teacher,  Mr.  M.,  a  fairly  rich  man,  and  I 
did  think  a  good  deal  of  him.  I  liked  to  go 
to  Sunday-school  and  was  often  the  first 
in  my  class.  The  teacher  would  put  up  a 
prize  for  the  one  that  was  there  first. 
Sometimes  it  would  be  a  baseball  bat, 
skates,  book,  or  knife.  I  would  let  myself 
out  then  and  would  be  first  and  get  the 
prize. 

I  asked  Mr.  M.  to  get  me  work  in  an 
office.  After  a  few  weeks  he  called  and 
told  my  mother  he  had  got  me  a  job  in 
Jersey  City,  in  the  office  of  a  civil  engi- 
neer, at  $3  a  week.  I  was  a  happy  boy  as 
I  started  in  on  my  first  day's  work.  It  was 

25 


26  Dave    Ranney 

easy;  all  I  had  to  do  was  to  open  up  and 
dust  the  office  at  8  a.  m.^  and  close  at  5 
p.  M.  I  used  to  run  errands  and  draw  a 
little.  But  after  a  few  weeks  the  newness 
of  work  wore  oif  and  I  wished  I  was  back 
at  school  again,  where  I  could  play  hookey 
and  have  fun  with  the  other  fellows. 

THE   FIRST   THEFTS 

I  had  lots  of  time  on  my  hands,  and  you 
know  the  saying,  "  Satan  finds  some  mis- 
chief still  for  idle  hands  to  do."  He  cer- 
tainly found  plenty  for  me.  The  boss 
was  a  great  smoker  and  bought  his  cigars 
by  the  box.  He  asked  me  if  I  smoked, 
and  I  said  no,  for  I  had  not  begun  to 
smoke  as  yet.  Well,  he  left  the  box  of 
cigars  around,  always  oj^en,  so  I  thought 
I  would  try  one,  and  I  took  a  couple  out 
of  the  box.  See  how  the  Devil  works  with 
a  fellow.  He  seemed  to  say,  "  Xow  if  you 
take  them  from  the  top  he  will  miss  them,'* 
so  he  showed  me  how  to  take  them  from 
the  bottom.     I  took  out  the  cigars  that 


First   Steps   in    Crime      27 

were  on  top,  and  when  I  got  to  the  bottom 
of  the  box  I  crossed  a  couple  and  took  the 
cigars,  and  you  could  not  tell  that  any- 
had  been  taken  out.  That  was  the  begin- 
ning of  my  stealing.  The  cigars  were  not 
missed,  and  I  thought  how  easy  it  was, 
but  this  beginning  proved  to  be  just  a 
stepping-stone  to  what  followed. 

I  did  not  smoke  the  cigars  then,  but 
waited  until  I  got  home.    After  supper  I 

went  out  and  met  JVIike  ,  and  gave 

him  one  of  them,  and  I  started  in  to  smoke 
my  first  cigar.  Mike  could  smoke  and  not 
get  sick,  but  there  never  was  a  sicker  boy 
than  I  was.  I  thought  I  was  going  to  die 
then  and  there  and  I  said,  "  No  more  ci- 
gars for  me."  I  recovered,  however,  and  as 
usual  forgot  my  good  resolutions.  That 
turned  out  to  be  the  beginning  of  my 
smoking  habit,  and  I  was  a  good  judge  of 
a  cigar  when  I  was  but  fourteen  years  of 
age.  I  went  on  steahng  them  until  the 
boss  tumbled  that  some  one  was  taking 
them  and  locked  them  up  for  safe  keep- 


28  Dave    Ranney 

ing.  I  never  smoked  a  cigarette  in  all  my 
life.  I  know  it  takes  away  a  young  fel- 
low's brains  and  I  really  class  cigarettes 
next  to  drink  and  would  warn  boys  never 
to  smoke  them. 

I  had  been  in  the  office  now  about  three 
months.  At  the  end  of  each  month  I  re- 
ceived a  check  for  $12.  It  seemed  a  for- 
tune to  me  and  I  hated  to  give  it  in  at  the 
house.  The  third  month  I  received  the 
check  as  usual,  made  out  to  bearer.  Well, 
I  went  home  and  gave  the  check  to 
mother,  and  she  said  I  was  a  good  boy  and 
gave  me  fifty  cents  to  spend. 

I  watched  my  mother  and  saw  her  put 
the  check  in  an  unused  pitcher  in  the  closet 
on  the  top  shelf.  It  seemed  as  though 
some  one  was  beside  me  all  the  time  tell- 
ing me  to  take  it  and  have  a  good  time. 
It  belonged  to  me  and  no  one  else  had  a 
right  to  it,  Satan  seemed  to  say.  And 
what  a  good  time  I  could  have  with  it! 
They  would  never  suspect  me  of  taking  it. 


First   Steps  in   Crime      29 

and  I  could  have  it  cashed  and  no  one 
would  ever  know. 

So  I  got  up  in  the  middle  of  the  night 
and  started  right  there  and  then  to  be  a 
burglar.  I  went  on  tiptoe  as  softly  as  I 
could,  and  was  right  in  the  middle  of  the 
kitchen  floor  when  I  stumbled  over  a  little 
stool  and  it  made  a  noise.  It  was  not  much 
of  a  noise,  but  to  me  it  seemed  like  the 
shot  out  of  a  cannon.  I  thought  it  would 
wake  up  the  whole  house,  but  nobody  but 
mother  woke,  and  she  said," Who's  there?'* 
I  said  nothing,  only  stood  still  and  waited 
for  her  to  fall  asleep  again.  As  I  stood 
there  a  voice — and  surely  it  was  the  voice 
of  God — seemed  to  say,  Go  back  to  bed 
and  leave  the  check  alone.  It  is  not  yours : 
it  belongs  to  your  mother.  She  is  feeding 
and  keeping  you,  and  you  are  doing 
wrong."  I  think  if  the  Devil  had  not 
butted  in  I  would  have  gone  to  bed,  but 
he  said,  "  Now  you  are  here  no  one  sees 
you,  and  what  a  good  time  you  can  have 


30  Dave    Ranney 

with  that  check!"  That  settled  all  good 
thoughts  and  I  went  up  to  the  closet,  put 
my  hand  in  the  pitcher,  took  the  check  and 
went  back  to  bed.  That  was  my  first  bur- 
glary. 

Did  I  sleep?  Well,  I  guess  not!  I 
rolled  and  tossed  all  the  balance  of  the 
night.  I  knew  I  had  done  wrong.  But 
you  see  the  Devil  was  there,  and  I  really 
think  he  owned  me  from  the  time  I  stole 
the  cigars — "  that  little  beginning." 

I  got  up  the  next  morning,  ate  my 
breakfast  and  went  to  work.  I  still  had 
the  check,  and  all  I  had  to  do  was  to  go 
to  the  bank  and  get  it  cashed.  But  I  was 
afraid,  and  how  I  wished  that  the  check 
was  safe  in  the  old  pitcher.  I  worried 
all  that  day,  and  I  think  if  I  had  gotten 
a  chance  that  night  after  I  got  home,  I 
would  have  put  the  check  back.  But  the 
old  Devil  was  there  saying,  "You  fool, 
keep  it!  It  is  not  missed,  and  even  if  it 
is  no  one  will  accuse  you  of  stealing  j^our 
own  money."    I  tell  you,  the  Devil  had 


FiEST   Steps  in   Crime      31 

me  hand  and  foot,  and  there  seemed  to  be 
no  getting  away.  Oh!  if  I  could  have 
had  some  person  to  tell  me  plainly  what 
to  do  at  this  time,  it  might  have  been  the 
turning-point  in  my  life!  Anyway,  the 
check  didn't  get  back  to  the  pitcher.  I 
had  it  and  the  Devil  had  me. 

Next  day  I  disguised  myself  somewhat. 
I  made  my  face  dirty  and  put  on  a  cap. 
I  had  been  wearing  a  hat  before,  so  I 
thought  the  teller  at  the  bank  would  not 
know  me.  I  had  been  there  often  with 
checks  for  my  boss.  Well,  the  teller  just 
looked  at  the  check,  gave  me  a  glance, 
and  passed  out  the  $12.  It  did  not  take 
me  long  to  get  out  of  the  bank.  I  knew 
I  had  done  wrong,  and  I  felt  it,  and 
would  have  given  anything  if  I  could 
have  undone  it;  but  it  was  too  late,  and 
my  old  companion,  the  Devil,  said, 
"  What  a  nice  time  you  can  have,  and 
wasn't  it  easy!" 

When  I  went  home  the  first  question 
was,   "Did  you  see  your  check?"     My 


32  Dave    Ranney 

dear  mother  asked  me  that,  never  think- 
ing that  her  boy  had  taken  it.  Oh!  if  I 
had  had  the  courage  to  tell  her  then  and 
there,  how  much  misery  and  trouble  it 
would  have  saved  me  in  after  life!  But 
I  was  a  moral  coward,  and  I  said,  "No, 
mother;  where  did  you  put  it?"  I  had 
her  guessing  whether  she  really  put  it  in 
the  pitcher  or  not. 

There  was  a  regular  hunt  for  that 
check,  and  I  hunted  as  much  as  any  one, 
but  it  could  not  be  found.  Mother  did 
not  know  much  about  banks  in  those 
days,  but  some  one  told  her  about  a  week 
after  that  she  ought  to  go  to  the  bank 
and  stop  payment  on  the  check.  That 
sounded  good  to  mother,  and  she  said, 
"Dave,  you  and  I  will  go  to  the  bank 
and  stop  payment  on  that  check."  I  was 
in  it  for  fair  this  time.  The  onh^  chance 
I  had  was  in  the  teller  not  recogniz- 
ing me. 

We  went  to  the  bank,  and  mother  told 
the  teller  about  the  lost — stolen — check. 


First   Steps  in   Crime     33 

and  for  him  to  see  that  it  wasn't  paid. 
He  said,  "  All  right,  madam,  I'll  not  pay 
it  if  it  is  not  already  paid."  He  looked 
over  the  books  and  brought  back  the  lost 
check.  I  had  stood  in  the  background 
all  this  time.  Then  my  mother  asked  him 
whom  he  paid  it  to.  He  said  it  was  hard 
for  him  to  recall  just  then,  "But  I  think 
I  paid  it  to  a  boy,"  he  said.  "  Yes,  it  was 
a  boy,  for  I  recollect  that  he  had  as  dirty 
a  face  and  hands  as  ever  I  saw."  Mother 
pulled  me  up  in  front  of  him  and  told 
him  to  look  at  me  and  see  if  I  was  the 
boy.  He  looked  at  me  for  a  minute  or 
so — it  seemed  to  me  like  an  hour — then 
said,  "Xo,  that  is  not  the  boy  that  cashed 
the  check,  nothing  like  him.  I  am  sure  I 
should  know  that  boy."  In  after  years, 
Avhen  I  was  lined  up  in  front  of  detectives 
for  identification  for  some  crime,  identi- 
fied or  not,  I  always  thought  of  a  dirty 
face  being  a  good  disguise. 

On    the    way    home    from    the    bank 
mother  asked  me  all  sorts  of  questions 


34  Dave    Ranney 

about  boys  I  knew;  if  they  had  dirty 
faces  and  so  on,  but  I  did  not  know  any 
such  boys,  so  the  check  business  died  out. 
She  little  thought  that  her  own  boy  was 
the  thief,  and  she  blamed  my  cousin,  who 
was  boarding  with  us  at  the  time. 

My  grandfather  was  still  with  us,  and 
he  had  quite  a  sum  of  money  saved.  He 
wanted  some  money,  and  he  and  I  went  to 
the  bank  and  he  drew  out  fifty  dollars  in 
gold.  There  was  a  premium  on  gold  at 
that  time,  and  he  received  two  twenty- 
dollar  gold-pieces  and  one  ten.  Well, 
that  night  he  lost  one  of  the  twenty-dollar 
gold-pieces  and  never  found  it.  There 
was  a  hot  time  the  next  morning,  for  he 
was  sure  he  had  it  when  he  went  to  bed. 
My  father  was  blamed  for  that,  so  you 
see  the  innocent  suffer  for  the  guilty. 

I  had  quite  a  time  with  the  money  while 
it  lasted,  went  out  to  the  old  Bowery 
Theatre,  and  had  a  good  time  in  general. 
I  little  thought  then  that  in  after  years 
I  would  be  sitting  on  the  old  Bowery 


First  Steps  in   Ceime     35 

steps,  down  and  out,  without  a  cent  in  my 
pocket  and  without  a  friend  in  the  world. 

LOSING    A    position 

I  was  a  boj^  of  fourteen  at  this  time, 
working  in  a  civil  engineer's  office  for 
three  dollars  per  week,  but  I  knew,  young 
as  I  was,  that  as  a  profession  engineering 
was  not  for  me.  I  knew  that  to  take  it 
up  I  needed  a  good  education,  and  that 
I  did  not  have.  I  didn't  like  the  trade, 
anyv/ay,  and  didn't  care  whether  I  worked 
or  not.    That  is  the  reason  I  lost  my  job. 

One  afternoon  my  employer  sent  me 
up  Newark  Avenue  for  a  suit  of  clothes 
that  had  been  made  to  order.  He  told 
me  to  get  them  and  bring  them  back  as 
soon  as  I  could.  I  must  say  right  here 
that  my  employer  was  a  good  man,  and 
he  took  quite  a  liking  to  me.  INIany  a 
time  he  told  me  he  would  make  a  great 
engineer  out  of  me.  I  often  look  back 
and  ask  myself  the  question,  "Did  I  miss 
my  vocation?"    And  then  there  comes  a 


36  Dave    Ranney 

voice,  which  I  recognize  as  God's,  saying, 
"  You  had  to  go  through  all  this  in  order 
to  help  others  wdth  the  same  temptations 
and  the  same  sins,"  and  I  say,  "Amen." 

After  getting  the  clothes  I  went  back 
to  the  building  where  I  worked — Xo.  9 
Exchange  Place,  Jersey  City — and  found 
the  door  locked.  I  waited  around  for  a 
while,  for  I  thought  my  employer  wanted 
his  clothes  or  he  would  not  have  sent  me 
for  them.  Finally  I  got  tired  of  waiting, 
and  after  trying  the  door  once  more  and 
finding  it  still  locked,  I  said  to  myself, 
"I'll  just  put  these  clothes  in  the  furni- 
ture store  next  door  and  I'll  get  them  to- 
morrow morning."  I  left  them  and  told 
the  man  I  would  call  for  them  in  the 
morning,  and  started  for  home. 

I  was  in  bed  dreaming  of  Indians  and 
other  things,  when  mother  wakened  me, 
shouting,  "Where's  the  man's  clothes?'* 
I  couldn't  make  out  at  first  what  all  the 
racket  was  about.  Then  I  heard  men's 
voices  talking  in  the  y^d,  and  recognized 


First   Steps  in   Crime     37 

Mr.  M.,  my  Sunday-school  teacher,  and 
my  employer,  the  man  that  was  going  to 
make  a  great  engineer  out  of  me.  I  went 
out  on  the  porch  and  told  him  what  I  had 
done  with  the  clothes,  and  he  nearly  col- 
lapsed. He  was  very  angry,  and  drove 
off,  saying,  "  You  come  to  the  office  and 
get  what's  due  you  in  the  morning."  I 
went  the  next  morning,  got  my  money, 
and  bade  him  good-by.  That  was  the  last 
of  my  becoming  one  of  the  great  engi- 
neers of  the  day. 

I  was  glad,  and  I  went  back  to  school 
determined  to  study  real  hard,  and  I  did 
remain  in  school  for  a  j^ear.  Then  the 
old  craze  for  work  came  on  me  again. 
Father  had  died  in  the  meantime,  and 
mother  was  left  to  do  the  best  she  could, 
and  I  got  a  job  with  the  determination 
to  be  a  help  to  her. 

AT    WORK    AGAIN 

I  got  a  position  as  office  boy  at  40 
Broadway,  then  one  of  Xew  York's  larg- 


38  Dave    Ranney 

est  buildings.  The  man  I  worked  for  was 
a  commission  merchant,  a  Hebrew,  and 
one  of  the  finest  men  I  ever  met  in  my 
life.  He  took  me  into  his  private  office 
and  we  had  a  long  talk,  a  sort  of  fatherly 
talk,  as  he  had  sons  and  daughters  of  his 
own.  I  loved  that  man.  I  had  been 
brought  up  among  the  Dutch  and  Irish, 
and  had  never  associated  with  the  Jews, 
and  I  supposed  from  what  I  had  heard 
that  they  were  put  on  earth  for  us  to  get 
the  best  of,  fire  stones  at,  and  treat  as 
meanly  as  we  could.  That  was  my  idea 
of  a  Jew — my  boy  idea.  Yet  here  was  a 
man,  a  Jew,  one  of  the  whitest  men  I  ever 
met,  who  by  his  life  changed  completely 
my  opinion  of  the  Jews,  and  I  put  them 
down  from  that  day  as  being  pretty  good 
people. 

My  mother  did  some  work  for  his  wife, 
and  when  he  heard  that  I  wanted  to  go 
to  work  he  told  her  to  send  me  over  to  his 
place  of  business,  and  that  is  how  I  got 
my  second  position  in  this  big  world. 


First   Steps   in   Crime      39 

I  went  to  work  with  the  determination 
to  make  a  man  of  myself,  and  mother 
said : 

"Now,  Dave,  be  a  good  boy,  and  one 
of  these  days  you  will  be  a  big  mer- 
chant and  I  shall  be  proud  of  you."  That 
was  what  I  might  have  been  if  I  had  had 
the  grace  of  God  to  make  my  life  true. 
I  am  acquainted  with  some  men  to-day 
that  started  about  the  same  time  I  did. 
They  were  boys  that  looked  ahead,  stud- 
ied and  went  up  step  by  step,  and  are 
to-daj^  some  of  the  best-known  bankers  in 
America. 

They  say  *'Hell  is  paved  with  good 
intentions,"  and  I  believe  it  is.  We  start 
out  in  life  with  the  best  intentions,  but  be- 
fore we  know  it  we  are  up  against  some 
temptation,  and  unless  we  have  God  with 
us  we  are  sure  to  fall,  and  when  we  fall, 
why,  it's  the  hardest  thing  in  the  world 
to  get  back  where  we  tumbled  from.  I 
only  wish  I  had  taken  the  Saviour  as  my. 
helper  years  ago.    Oh !  what  a  change  He 


40  Dave    Ranney 

did  make  in  my  life  after  I  did  accept 
Him,  seventeen  years  ago! 

I  started  in  to  work  at  four  dollars  a 
week,  and,  as  I  said,  I  intended  to  be  a 
great  merchant.  I  meant  well,  if  that 
was  any  consolation.  My  duties  were  to 
go  to  the  postoffice  and  bring  the  mail, 
copy  the  letters,  and  run  errands,  and  I 
was  happy. 

I  was  out  one  day  on  an  errand,  when 
whom  should  I  meet  but  my  old  friend 

JNIike ,  my  chum  of  the  pig  incident. 

He  said,  "  Hello,  Dave,  where  are  you 
working?"  He  had  a  job  in  a  factory 
in  iSIaiden  Lane,  at  the  same  wages  I  was 
getting.  I  hadn't  seen  much  of  Mike 
lately,  and  to  tell  the  truth  I  didn't  care 
so  much  about  meeting  him.  I  am  not 
superstitious  by  any  means,  but  I  really 
thought  he  was  my  Jonah.  We  talked  a 
while,  and  we  promised  to  meet  and  go 
home  together.  Like  a  foolish  boy,  I  met 
him  that  night  and  many  a  time  after. 


First   Steps  in   Crime     41 

touch  not,  taste  not 

Mike  was  just  learning  to  play  pool, 
and  one  evening  we  had  to  go  in  and  play 
a  game.  That  night  I  had  the  first  glass 
of  beer  I  ever  took  in  a  saloon.  Mike  was 
getting  to  be  quite  a  tippler,  and  he  said, 
"Let's  have  a  drink."  I  said  I  didn't 
want  any,  and  I  didn't.  But  he  said — I 
really  think  the  Devil  was  using  ISIike  to 
make  me  drink — "Oh,  be  a  man!  One 
glass  won't  hurt  you;  it  will  do  you 
good."  And  he  talked  to  me  about  moth- 
er's apron-strings,  and  finally  I  took  my 
first  drink  outside  of  what  I  drank  when 
grandfather  used  to  send  me  for  beer. 

Do  you  know,  as  I  stood  there  before' 
the  bar,  with  that  beer  in  my  hand,  I 
heard  a  voice  just  as  plain  as  I  ever  heard 
anything,  saying,  "Don't  take  that  stuff; 
it's  no  good,  and  will  bring  j^ou  to  shame 
and  misery.  It  will  spoil  your  future, 
and  you  will  never  become  the  great  mer- 
chant you  started  out  to  be.    Put  it  down 


42  Dave     Ranney 

and  don't  drink  it."  That  was  twenty- 
five  years  ago,  and  many  a  time  I  have 
heard  that  voice  since.  How  I  wish  now 
that  I  had  hstened  to  that  voice  and  never 
taken  that  first  drink!  It  is  not  the  sec- 
ond or  the  one  hundred  and  second  drink 
that  makes  a  man  a  drunkard,  but  the 
first. 

I  started  to  put  the  glass  down,  and 
with  that  Mike  began  to  laugh,  and  his 
laugh  brought  the  other  fellows  around. 
Of  course  Mike  told  them  I  was  a  milk- 
and-water  boy.  I  could  not  stand  it  to 
be  laughed  at,  so  I  put  the  glass  of  beer 
to  my  lips,  swallowed  it,  and  never  made 
a  face  about  it.  Then  the  fellows  said, 
"  You're  all  right !  You  are  initiated  now 
and  you're  a  man!" 

I  didn't  feel  very  much  like  a  man.  I 
felt  as  though  I  was  some  fellow  without 
a  single  spark  of  manhood  in  my  whole 
make-up.  I  thought  of  mother;  what 
would  she  say  if  she  knew  I  had  broken 
my  promise  to  her?    I  had  promised  her 


First   Steps   in    Crime      43 

when  father  died  never  to  take  a  drink  in 
all  my  life.  I  knelt  at  her  dear  side,  with 
her  hands  upon  my  head,  and  she  prayed 
that  God  would  bless  her  boy  and  keep 
him  from  drink.  I  had  honestly  intended 
to  keep  that  promise,  but  you  see  how  the 
Devil  popped  in  and  once  more  made  me 
do  what  I  knew  was  wrong — drink  that 
first  cursed  glass  of  beer. 

I  went  home,  walking  all  the  way,  and 
trj^ing  to  get  the  smell  out  of  my  mouth. 
I  could  not  face  my  dear  mother,  so  I 
went  to  my  room  without  supper.  I 
thought  that  all  she  had  to  do  was  to  look 
in  my  face  and  she  would  know  that  I  had 
broken  my  promise,  and  I  was  ashamed. 
She  came  up  later  and  asked  me  what 
was  the  matter,  and  I  said  I  had  a  head- 
ache. If  I  had  had  the  courage  to  tell 
her  then,  things  might  have  been  differ- 
ent! She  brought  me  a  cup  of  tea  and 
bade  me  good-night. 

.The  next  night  the  Devil  steered  me 
into  the  same  saloon.    I  drank  again  and 


44  Dave    Ranney 

again,  till  finally  I  could  drink  as  much 
as  any  man,  and  it  would  take  a  good 
deal  to  knock  me  out. 

I  was  still  working  for  the  merchant 
on  Broadway,  and  my  prospects  were  of 
the  brightest.  They  all  liked  me  and 
gave  me  a  raise  in  salary,  so  I  was  now 
getting  five  dollars  a  week.  But,  you  see, 
I  was  spending  money  on  pool  and  drink, 
and  five  dollars  didn't  go  so  very  far,  so 
I  began  to  steal.  I  had  charge  of  the 
stamps — the  firm  used  a  great  many — 
and  I  had  the  mailing  of  all  the  letters. 
I  would  take  out  fiftj^  cents  from  the 
money  and  balance  the  account  by  letters 
mailed.  I  began  in  a  small  way,  and  the 
Devil  in  me  said,  "  How  easy!  You're  all 
right."  So  I  went  on  until  I  was  stealing 
on  an  average  of  $1.50  per  day.  I  still 
kept  on  drinking  and  playing  cards.  I 
had  by  this  time  blossomed  out  as  quite 
a  poker  player  and  could  do  as  many 
tricks  as  the  best  of  them.  I  used  to  stay 
out  quite  late,  and  would  tell  mother  that 


First   Steps  in   Crime     45 

I  was  kept  at  the  office,  and  little  did  she 
think  that  her  only  son  was  a  gambler! 
The  Bible  says,  "Be  sure  your  sin  will 
find  you  out,"  and  it  proved  true  in  my 
case.  One  night  I  was  out  gambling,  and 
had  had  quite  some  luck  The  fellows  got 
to  drinking,  and  in  fact  I  got  drunk,  and 
when  I  started  for  home  I  could  hardly 
walk.  I  fell  down  several  times,  when 
who  should  come  along  but  mother  and 
sister,  and  when  they  saw  me  staggering 
along  they  were  astonished.  I  heard  my 
mother  saj^  "Oh!  my  God,  my  boy,  my 
only  son,  oh!  what  happened  to  you?" 
Mother  knew  without  asking  what  the 
matter  was.  She  had  often  seen  father 
reeling  home  under  the  influence  of  drink. 
But  here  was  something  she  could  not 
understand.  Here  was  her  only  son 
beastly  drunk,  and  she  cried  bitter  tears. 
She  took  hold  of  one  arm  and  my  sister 
the  other,  and  we  finally  reached  home. 
I  was  getting  pretty  well  sobered  up  by 
this  time,  and  knew  I  was  in  for  a  lecture. 


46  Dave    Ranney 

My  mother  hadn't  whipped  me  of  late, 
but  I  dreaded  her  talk,  and  then  I  wished 
I  had  never  met  Mike . 

Mother  didn't  say  anything  until  we 
got  home.  She  put  me  to  bed,  brushed 
my  clothes,  and  told  me  to  go  to  sleep. 
About  two  o'clock  I  woke  up.  There 
was  mother  kneeling  by  my  bedside, 
praying  God  to  save  her  boy  and  keep 
him  from  following  in  his  father's  foot- 
steps. I  lay  there  and  listened  and  said 
amen  to  everything  she  asked  God  to  do. 
Finally  I  could  stand  it  no  longer;  I 
jumped  out  of  bed  and  knelt  beside  my 
mother  and  asked  God  to  forgive  me.  I 
threw  my  arms  around  mother's  neck  and 
asked  her  to  forgive  her  boy,  which  she 
did.  I  determined  right  then  and  there 
to  do  better  and  never  to  drink  any 
more. 

I  really  meant  to  start  all  over  again, 
but  I  didn't  take  Jesus  with  me — in  fact, 
I  think  the  Devil  owned  me  for  fair.  I 
was  pretty  good  for  about  a  month,  kept 


A   BACK   YARD  ON   THE  EOWEKY. 


ONE    OE    RANNEY  S    EOKMER    HAUNTS. 


First  Steps  in   Crime     47 

away  from  Mike  and  the  other  fellows, 
and  mother  was  delighted.  But  this  did 
not  continue  long;  I  met  Mike  again,  and 
fell  into  the  same  groove,  and  was  even 
worse  than  before. 

Barnum  was  running  his  circus  in  New 
York  then,  and  Mike  and  I  decided  to  see 
the  show  and  took  a  day  off  to  go.  I  had 
not  got  leave  of  absence  from  work,  so  on 
our  way  home  we  planned  what  we  could 
tell  our  bosses  when  we  went  to  work  the 
next  morning. 

When  my  employer  came  in  that  morn- 
ing I  told  him  I  was  sick  the  day  before 
and  not  able  to  get  out  of  bed.  He  just 
stood  there  and  looked  at  me,  and  said, 
"What  a  liar  you  are!  You  were  seen 
at  the  circus  yesterday !  Now,  why  didn't 
you  tell  me  the  truth,  and  I  would  have 
overlooked  it?  I  can't  have  any  one  in 
my  employ  that  I  can't  trust."  So  I  had 
to  look  for  another  job.  I  was  sorry,  but 
it  was  my  own  fault.  There  I  was,  with- 
out a  job  and  without  a  recommendation. 


48  Dave    Ranney 

What  was  I  going  to  do?     Surely   "the 
way  of  the  transgressor  is  hard." 

I  tell  the  men  in  the  Mission  night 
after  night  that  I  would  rather  deal  with 
a  thief  than  a  liar,  because  you  can  pro- 
tect yourself  against  a  thief,  but  a  liar — 
what  can't  a  liar  do?  If  I  had  only  told 
the  truth  to  my  employer  that  day,  why, 
as  mother  said  afterwards,  he  would  have 
given  me  a  lecture,  and  it  would  have 
been  all  over. 

DEEPER    IN    THE    MIRE 

Xow  what  was  I  to  tell  my  mother? 
You  see,  if  you  tell  one  lie  you  are  bound 
to  tell  others,  and  after  you  have  lied 
once,  how  easy  it  is!  INIy  side  partner, 
the  Devil,  was  there  by  my  side  to  help 
me,  and  he  said,  "Don't  tell  your 
mother."  So  I  said  nothing,  and  took 
my  carfare  and  lunch  money  every  day, 
went  out  as  if  I  were  going  to  work,  and 
hoped  that  something  would  turn  up. 
That's  the  way  with  the  sinners;  they  are 


First   Steps  in   Crime      49 

always  hoping  and  never  doing.  So  it 
was  with  me,  always  hoping,  and  the 
Devil  always  saying,  "Don't  worry;  it 
will  be  all  right." 

I  used  to  dread  going  home  at  night 
and  meeting  my  mother,  and  when  she 
would  say,  "  How  have  you  got  on  to- 
day?" I  was  always  ready  with  another 
lie,  telling  her  I  was  doing  finely,  that 
the  boss  said  he  was  going  to  give  me  a 
raise  soon.  He  had — he  had  raised  me 
right  out  of  the  place! 

I  was  getting  deeper  and  deeper  into 
difficulty  and  could  not  see  my  way  out. 
Oh!  if  I  had  only  told  my  mother  the 
trutli,  how  different  my  life  might  have 
been!  Saturday  night  was  coming,  and 
I  did  not  have  any  money  to  bring  home, 
and  I  did  not  know  what  to  do.  I 
thought  of  everything,  but  could  not  see 
my  way  out,  when  the  thought  came  to 
me,  "Steal!"  My  sister  was  saving  up 
some  money  to  buy  a  suit,  and  I  knew 
where  she  kept  it  and  determined  to  get 


50  Dave    Ranney 

it.  That  night  I  entered  her  room  and 
took  all  the  money  she  had  saved.  No 
one  saw  me  but  God,  but  the  Devil  was 
there  with  me,  and  said,  "  Isn't  it  easy? 
Don't  be  a  coward!  God  doesn't  care." 
I  knew  right  down  in  my  heart  that  He 
did  care,  and  in  after  years  when  I  was 
wandering  all  over  the  States  I  found  out 
how  much  He  really  cared,  and  I  said, 
"Praise  His  name!" 


CHAPTER   III 
INTO  THE  DEPTHS 

A  FTER  I  had  taken  this  money  from 
my  sister  I  knew  that  I  was  sus- 
pected. I  was  accused  of  taking  it,  but 
I  was  getting  hardened;  I  had  lost  my 
job  through  lying;  I  was  getting  tired  of 
home ;  I  didn't  care  very  much  how  things 
went. 

About  this  time  my  elder  sister  was 
married  and  moved  to  New  York.  Her 
husband  was  a  mechanic  and  made  good 
money.  He  liked  me,  and  when  the 
theft  was  discovered  I  went  and  put  up 
with  him,  staying  there  until  I  made 
money  enough  to  leave,  then  I  got  out. 
All  this  time  I  was  going  from  bad  to 
worse,  my  associates  being  thieves  and 
crooks  and  gamblers. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  first  time  I  was 

51 


52  Dave    Ranney 

arrested.  I  was  with  a  hardened  crook, 
and  we  had  made  a  haul  of  some  hundred 
dollars.  But  as  luck  would  have  it  we 
were  caught  and  sent  away  for  nine 
months  on  a  "technicality."  If  we  had 
received  our  just  dues  the  lowest  term 
would  have  been  five  years  each.  I 
thought  my  time  in  prison  would  never 
come  to  an  end,  but  it  did  at  last,  and  I 
was  free.  But  where  was  I  to  go?  My 
mother  had  moved  to  Xew  York  to  be 
near  my  sister,  so  I  went  and  called  on 
them.  Mother  asked  me  where  I  had 
been.  I  made  some  kind  of  an  excuse, 
but  I  could  see  by  mother's  eye  that  she 
did  not  take  much  stock  in  it. 

I  remained  at  home,  and  finally  got 
work  in  a  fruit  house  on  Washington 
Street,  at  eight  dollars  a  week.  I  was 
quite  steady  for  a  while,  and  mother  still 
had  hopes  of  her  boy.  But  through  the 
same  old  company  and  drink  I  lost  that 
job. 


Into  the  Depths  53 

marriage 

About  this  time  I  ran  across  a  girl  who 
I  thought  would  make  a  good  wife,  and 
we  were  married.  I  was  then  in  the 
crockery  business  in  a  small  way,  and  if 
I  had  stuck  to  business  I  should  be  worth 
something  now.  I'll  never  forget  the  day 
of  the  wedding.  The  saying  is,  "  Happy 
is  the  bride  the  sun  shines  on,"  but  there 
was  no  sunshine  that  day.  It  rained,  it 
simply  poured.  Mother  tried  to  get  the 
girl  to  throw  me  over;  she  told  her  I 
would  never  make  her  a  good  husband; 
and  I  guess  Mary  was  sorry  afterward 
that  she  did  not  take  her  advice. 

The  night  of  the  wedding  we  had  quite 
a  blowout,  and  I  was  as  drunk  as  I  could 
be.  I'd  ring  in  right  here  a  bit  of  advice 
to  my  girl  readers:  Don't  ever  try  to 
convert  a  man — I  mean  one  who  drinks 
— by  marrying  him,  for  in  ninety-nine 
cases  out  of  a  hundred  you  won't  succeed. 
In  my  case.  I  was  young  and  did  not  care 


54s  Dave    Ranney 

how  the  wind  blew.  I  stayed  out  nights 
and  neglected  my  home,  but  I  must  say, 
bad  as  I  was,  I  never  hit  my  wife.  I 
think  any  man  that  raises  his  hand  to  hit 
a  woman  is  worse  than  a  cur,  and  that 
he  will  certainly  be  punished  in  some  way 
for  it. 

Things  went  from  bad  to  \Yorse,  and 
one  day  I  came  home  to  the  store  and 
there  was  no  wife.  She  had  gone.  Mar- 
ried and  deserted  in  two  months!  I  felt 
sore,  and  all  I  thought  about  was  to  get 
even  with  my  wife.  I  sold  out  the  busi- 
ness, got  a  couple  hundred  dollars  to- 
gether, and  started  after  her.  I  found 
out  that  she  had  gone  to  Oswego,  and  I 
sent  her  a  telegram  and  was  met  at  the 
station  by  her  brother.  It  did  not  take 
me  long  to  get  next  to  him.  In  a  very 
short  time  I  had  him  thinking  there  was 
no  one  like  Ranney.  JNIary  and  I  made 
up  and  I  promised  never  to  drink  again, 
and  we  started  for  New  York.  My 
promises  were  easily  broken,  for  before 


Into  the  Depths  55 

we  got  to  Syracuse  both  her  brother  and 
I  were  pretty  drunk. 

After  reaching  New  York  we  went  to 
mother's  house  and  stayed  there  until  we 
got  rooms,  w^hich  we  did  in  a  few  days. 
Mary's  brother  got  work  in  a  lumber- 
yard. I  hunted  as  usual  for  a  job,  pray- 
ing I  wouldn't  get  it.  I  went  hustling 
lumber  and  worked  two  days,  leaving  be- 
cause it  took  the  skin  off  my  hands.  Fi- 
nally I  could  not  pay  the  rent,  was  dis- 
possessed, and  then  went  to  live  in  "  Hell's 
Kitchen,"  in  Thirty-ninth  Street,  where 
my  son  was  born.  Our  friends  thought 
the  baby  would  bring  JNIary  and  me  closer 
together,  as  it  sometimes  does.  But  what 
did  I  care  for  a  baby! 

I  got  work  on  Jake  Sharp's  Twenty- 
third  Street  cars,  and  ^lary  would  bring 
me  my  dinner  and  do  everything  she 
could  for  me.  But  when  drink  is  the  idol 
— and  it  was  mine — what  does  one  care 
for  love?  Nothing.  I  certainly  led  Mary 
a  hard  life.     At  last  I  came  home  one 


56  Dave    Ranney 

night  and  she  and  the  kid  were  gone. 
The  baby  was  then  two  months  old,  and 
I  never  saw  him  again  until  he  was  a  boy 
of  nine.  I  was  not  sorry  at  their  going. 
I  wasn't  any  good  in  those  days.  I  imag- 
ined I  was  "  done  dirt3%"  as  they  say,  but 
I  knew  the  girl  couldn't  do  anything  else 
for  herself  and  baby.  I  sold  out  the  little 
furniture  the  rooms  contained,  got  a  few 
dollars,  and  jumped  the  town. 

WANDERINGS 

I  started  out  with  every  one's  hand 
against  me  and  mine  against  every  one's. 
I  struck  jMarathon,  N.  Y.,  and  had  quite 
a  time  there.  I  worked  in  Dumphy's 
tannery,  got  a  few  weeks'  pay  and  a  few 
other  articles,  and  jumped  out  for  fear 
of  being  arrested.  I  reached  Syracuse 
and  struck  a  job  in  INIcChesney's  lumber- 
yard, at  $1.35  per  day. 

I  stayed  in  Syracuse  quite  a  while  and 
learned  a  little  of  the  lumber  business.  I 
had  quite  a  few  adventures  while  there.    I 


Into  the  Depths  57 

had  struck  up  an  acquaintance  with  a 
New  York  boy,  and  one  evening  after 
work  we  were  sitting  on  .the  grass  in  front 
of  one  of  the  hotels,  and  seeing  the  patrol 
wagon  passing,  I  made  the  remark, 
"  Some  poor  bum  is  going  to  get  a  ride," 
when  it  pulled  up  in  front  of  us  and  we 
were  told  to  get  in.  I  tried  to  argue  the 
point  with  the  captain,  but  it  wasi  of  no 
use.  We  were  taken  to  the  station,  and 
the  others  were  sent  below  while  I  was 
kept  up  for  examination.  They  put  me 
through  a  light  "third  degree,"  measur- 
ing me  and  noting  the  color  of  hair  and 
eyes,  size  of  feet,  etc. 

Finally  they  stopped  measuring  and 
asking  questions,  and  I  waited.  I  saw 
my  friend  come  up  and  go  out  of  the 
door ;  he  did  not  take  time  to  bid  me  good- 
by.  I  asked  the  captain  if  he  was  through 
with  me,  and  he  did  not  know  what  to  say. 
He  apologized,  and  explained  that  I  had 
been  arrested  because  I  looked  like  a  man 
that  had  escaped  from  Auburn. 


58  Dave    Ranney 

I  felt  rather  sorry  for  the  captain,  not 
because  I  was  not  the  escaped  prisoner, 
but  because  he  was  so  nervous.  I  could 
not  leave  him  without  a  jolly,  so  I  said, 
"  Captain,  if  you'll  come  up  to  the  corner 
I'll  treat,"  patting  my  pocket  in  which  I 
had  a  few  pennies.  He  thanked  me  and 
said,  "No."  I  met  the  captain  every 
night  taking  his  men  as  far  as  Salina 
Street,  and  we  always  saluted  one  an- 
other. 

My  new  pal  couldn't  be  got  up  on 
Main  Street  to  the  postoffice  again  for 
anything,  and  as  soon  as  he  earned  money 
enough  he  took  the  train  for  "little  old 
New  York."  I've  met  him  on  the  Bow- 
ery since  I  became  a  missionary  there, 
and  we  did  smile  about  that  ride  in  the 
"hurry-up  wagon"  in  Syracuse. 

Finally  I  came  back  to  New  York, 
after  being  away  quite  a  time,  got  work 
in  a  carpet  factory,  and  was  quite  steady 
for  a  while. 

My  poor  dear  mother  was  sick,  some- 


Into  the  Depths  59 

times  up  and  oftentimes  in  bed.  I  can 
still  see  her  and  hear  her  say,  "  David,  my 
poor  boy,  I  do  wish  you  would  stop  your 
drinking.  I've  prayed  for  you,  and  will 
pray  until  I  die.  Oh,  Dave!  I'd  die  so 
happy  if  my  only  son  would  stop  and  be 
a  man ! "  But  that  cursed  appetite,  what 
a  hold  it  had  on  me!  It  seemed  as  if  I 
couldn't  stop  if  I  had  been  given  all  the 
money  in  the  world. 

I  did  love  my  mother  dearlj^;  I  didn't 
care  for  any  one  in  the  world  but  her. 
Still,  one  of  the  meanest  acts  I  ever  did 
was  to  my  mother.  And  such  a  good 
mother  she  w^as;  there  are  not  many  like 
her! 

She  was  in  bed  and  had  only  a  few 
weeks  to  live.  One  day  she  called  me  to 
her  bedside  and  said,  "  Dave,  I  am  going 
to  leave  you,  never  to  see  you  again  on 
this  earth,  but  oh!  how  I  wish  you  were 
going  to  meet  me  on  the  other  side.  Now, 
Dave,  won't  you  promise  me  you  will  ? " 
I  said,  "  Yes,  mother,  sure  I  will."    And 


60  Dave    R  a  n  n  e  y 

she  made  me  promise  then  and  there  that 
when  she  was  dead,  and  waiting  burial,  I 
would  not  get  drunk,  at  least  while  her 
body  was  in  the  house.  I  went  down  on 
my  knees  and  promised  her  that  I'd  nieet 
her  in  heaven. 

She  died,  and  the  undertaker  had  been 
gone  but  a  short  time  when  I  began 
drinking,  and  the  day  of  the  funeral  I 
was  pretty  drunk.  That  was  one  of  the 
meanest  things  I  ever  did.  But  I  am 
sure  that  sometimes  my  dear  mother 
looks  over  the  portals  of  heaven,  and  sees 
her  boy — a  man  now,  a  Christian — and 
forgives  me.  And  some  day,  when  my 
time  comes,  I  am  going  to  join  her  there. 

I  went  from  bad  to  worse,  wandering 
all  over,  not  caring  what  happened.  I 
took  a  great  many  chances.  Sometimes  I 
had  plenty  of  money,  and  at  other  times 
I  wouldn't  have  a  nickel  I  could  jingle 
against  a  tombstone.  I  boated  on  the 
Ohio  and  INIississippi  to  Xew  Orleans, 
then  up  on  the  Lakes.     I  was  always 


Into  the  Depths  61 

wandering,  but  never  at  rest,  sometimes 
in  prison,  and  sometimes  miles  away  from 
human  habitation,  often  remorseful,  al- 
ways wondering  what  the  end  would  be. 

I  recollect,  after  being  eighty-two  days 
on  the  river  to  New  Orleans,  being  paid 
off  with  over  $125.  I  left  the  steamer  at 
Pittsburg,  and  the  first  thing  I  did  was  to 
go  and  get  a  jug  of  beer.  Before  I  got 
anywhere  near  drunk  I  was  before  Judge 
White,  and  was  fined  $8.40,  and  dis- 
charged. I  wasn't  free  half  an  hour  be- 
fore I  was  arrested  again,  brought  before 
Judge  White,  and  again  fined  $8.40. 
After  being  free  for  about  fifteen  min- 
utes, I  was  again  brought  before  Judge 
White,  who  looked  at  me  this  time  and 
said,  "Can't  you  keep  sober?"  I  said, 
*'Your  Honor,  I  haven't  had  a  drink 
since  the  first  time."  And  I  hadn't.  But 
he  said,  "  Five  days,"  and  I  was  shut  up 
for  that  time,  and  I  was  in  hell  there  five 
days  if  ever  a  man  was. 

Out  of  jail,  I  drifted  with  the  tide.    I 


62  Dave    Ranney 

was  arrested  for  a  trick  that,  if  I  had  got 
my  just  dues,  would  have  put  me  in 
prison  for  ten  years,  but  I  got  off  with 
three  years,  and  came  out  after  doing  two 
years  and  nine  months. 

When  a  person  is  cooped  up  he  has 
lots  of  time  to  think.  It's  think,  think, 
think,  and  hope.  Many's  the  time  I  said, 
*'  Oh,  if  I  only  get  out  and  still  have  my 
health,  what  a  change  there  will  be!" 
And  I  meant  it. 

Isn't  it  queer  how  people  will  say,  "I 
can't  stop  drinking,"  but  when  they're  in 
jail  they  have  to!  The  prison  is  a  sani- 
tarium for  drunkards.  They  don't  drink 
while  on  a  visit  there.  Then  why  not  stop 
it  while  one  has  a  free  foot?  I  thought 
of  all  these  things  while  I  was  locked  up, 
and  I  decided  that  when  I  was  free  I 
would  hunt  up  my  wife  and  baby  and  be 
a  man. 

Prison  at  best  isn't  a  pleasant  place,  but 
you  can  get  the  best  in  it  if  you  behave. 
There's  no  coaxing  you  to  be  good.   They 


A   BOWERY   LOIKHXC-HorSK. 


NE.\l)l.\"(J-KU<m    IX    A    I.ODGING-HOrSE. 


Into  the  Depths  63 

won't  say,  "  If  you  don't  behave  I'll  send 
you  home."  It  isn't  like  school.  You 
have  to  behave  or  it's  worse  for  you,  for 
they  certainly  put  you  through  some 
pretty  tough  things.  Many's  the  time  I 
got  on  my  knees  and  told  God  all  about 
it.  If  a  man  is  crossing  the  street,  sees 
a  car  coming,  and  is  sure  it  will  hit  him, 
the  first  thing  he  says  is,  "  Oh,  God,  save 
me! "  The  car  misses  him  by  a  foot,  and 
he  forgets  how  much  he  owes.  He  sim- 
ply says,  "Thank  you,  God;  when  I'm 
in  danger  I'll  call  on  You  again."  It  was 
so  with  me.  Out  in  the  world  again,  I 
forgot  all  about  all  the  promises  I  made 
in  prison. 


CHAPTER   IV 

"SAVED  BY  GRACE" 

nnWELVE  years  later,  after  a  life 
"^'l^pent  on  the  road  and  in  prison,  I 
found  myself  on  the  Bowery,  in  the  fall 
of  1892,  without  a  friend,  "  down  and 
out.^    After  spending  my  last  dollar  in 

's  saloon,  I  was  sitting  down  in  the 

back  room  of  that  place,  wondering  if  I 

dared  ask  for  a  drink,  when  in  he 

walked.  ***'TH^'''rooked  at  me,  and  said, 
"  Now,  Danny,  I  think  you  had  better 
get  a  move  on!  Get  out  and  hustle.  You 
are  broke,  and  you  know  I  am  not  run- 
ning this  place  for  fun." 

I  took  it  kind  of  hard,  but  looked  at 
him  and  said,  "  Alt  right."  I  got  up  from 
the  chair  where  I'd  been  sitting  and 
walked  out,  not  caring  what  I  did,  but 
bound  to  get  some  money.  Now,  — — 
was  a  good  fellow  in  his  way;  they  all 

64 


"Saved   by   Grace"  65 

are  if  you  have  the  price;  but  saloon- 
keepers are  not  running  their  places  for 
the  benefit  of  others,  and  when  a  man's 
money's  gone  they  don't  want  him 
around.  I  had  spent  all  I  had,  about 
twenty  dollars,  and  now  I  was  turned 
out,  «tnd  it  served  me  right. 

"Now  ftiere's  something  in  rum  that  fas- 
cinates^'something  we  can't  understand.  I 
wanted  whiskey,  and  was  ready  to  do  any- 
thing to  get  it.  The  appetite  in  me  was 
fierce.  No  one  knows  the  terrible  pangs, 
the  great  longing,  but  one  who  has  been 
up  against  it.  And  nothing  can  satisfy 
the  awful  craving  but  whiskey. 

THE  TURNING-POINT 

Many's  the  time  I've  stood  on  the 
Bowery  and  cursed  God  and  the  day  I 
was  born,  and  wished  that  I  was  dead. 
But  here  I  was!  Xobody  cared  for  me, 
and  why  should  they,  for  I  did  not  care 
for  myself.  I  did  not  even  think  God 
cared  much  or  He  would  have  done  some- 


66  Dave    Ranney 

thing.  I  imagined  the  Devil  thought  he 
had  me  for  keeps,  and  so  he  did  not  exert 
himself  very  much  either.  I  was  out  of 
the  saloon,  on  the  street,  and  little  as  I 
imagined  such  a  thing  would  ever  happen, 

I  never  entered 's  saloon  again.    All 

unknown  to  me  the  turning-point  in  my 
life  had  come. 

Sizing  up  the  situation,  I  knew  I  must 
have  a  drink,  but  how  was  I  to  get  it? 
Up  to  this  time  I'd  done  everything  on 
the  calendar  except  murder,  and  I  don't 
know  how  I  missed  that.  I've  seen  men 
killed,  have  been  in  a  few  shoot-ups  my- 
self, and  bear  some  scars,  but  I  know  at 
this  writing  that  God  and  a  mother's 
prayers  saved  me  from  this  awful  crime. 

Among  the  many  accomplishments 
suited  to  the  life  I  was  leading  was  that 
of  a  "  strong-arm  man,"  and  I  determined 
to  put  it  into  use  now,  for  I  was  desper- 
ate. 

The  rule  in  this  dastardly  work  is  al- 
ways to  select  a  man  smaller  and  weaker 


"Saved  by  Grace"  67 

than  one's  self.  As  I  looked  about  I  saw 
a  man  coming  up  the  Bowery  who  seemed 
to  answer  to  the  requirements,  and  I  said 
to  myself,  "  This  is  my  man !  "  I  walked 
up  to  him  and  touched  him  on  the  shoul- 
der, but  as  he  straightened  up  I  saw  that 
he  was  as  big  as  myself,  and  I  hesitated. 
I  would  have  taken  the  chances  even  then, 
but  he  started  back  and  asked  what  I 
wanted.  I  said  I  was  hungry,  thinking 
that  he  would  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket, 
and  then,  having  only  one  hand,  I  could 
put  the  "  strangle  hold  "  on  him.  But  he 
was  equal  to  the  situation.  He  told  me 
afterward  that  I  looked  dangerous. 

I  asked  him  if  he  was  ever  hungry.  He 
said,  "  Many's  the  time."  I  told  him  I 
was  starving.  *'  Come  with  me,"  said  he, 
and  we  went  over  to  Chatham  Square,  to 
a  place  called  *'  Beefsteak  John's." 

We  went  in  and  sat  down,  and  he  said, 
*'  Now  order  what  you  want."  On  the 
Bowery  in  those  days  you  could  get  a 
pretty  good  meal  for  fifteen  cents — all 


68  Dave    Ranney 

you  wanted  to  eat.  The  waiter  was  there 
to  take  my  order.  I  knew  him  and  winked 
to  him  to  go  away,  and  he  went.  He 
thought  I  was  going  to  work  the  young 
fellow  for  his  money. 

The  young  fellow  said,  "  Why  don't 
you  call  for  something?  I  thought  you 
were  starving." 

Now  here  I  was  up  against  it.  I'd 
panned  this  man  for  something  to  eat,  and 
he  was  willing  to  pay  for  anything  I 
wanted,  and  for  the  life  of  me  I  could  not 
swallow  any  food.  When  a  man  is  drink- 
ing he  doesn't  care  to  eat  at  a  table.  Give 
him  a  square  meal,  and  he  doesn't  enjoy 
it.  I  know  men  to-day  who  spend  every 
dollar  they  earn  for  drink,  and  eat  noth- 
ing but  free  lunches,  handed  out  with 
their  drinks.  That  was  what  was  the  mat- 
ter with  me.  All  I  wanted  was  drink. 
The  young  man  had  called  my  bluff,  and 
I  had  nothing  to  show  but  lies.  I  sat  there 
wondering  how  I  was  going  to  get  out  of 
this  hole.    I  was  looking  at  the  man  and 


"Saved  by  Grace"  69 

he  at  me,  when  the  Httle  good  that  was  in 
me  cropped  out,  and  looking  him  square 
in  the  eye  I  said,  "  Young  fellow,  I've 
lied  to  you.  I  could  not  eat  the  first 
mouthful."  I  told  him  I'd  gone  up  to 
him  thinking  he  would  dig  down  in  his 
pocket  and  give  me  a  little  change.  I  did 
not  mention  the  fact  that  I  intended  to 
"  put  him  up  in  the  air  "  and  rob  him. 
Then  I  sat  back  in  my  chair  and  waited 
for  the  "come-back."  Finally  he  said, 
"  Have  some  coffee  and  sinkers  " — ^I'olls. 
But  I  could  not  go  even  that! 

We  got  to  talking,  and  he  asked  me 
where  I  was  living.  I  smiled  at  the  idea 
of  my  living!  I  wasn't  even  existingi  I 
told  him  I  lived  any  place  where  I  hung 
up  my  hat:  that  I  didn't  put  up  at  the 
Astor  House  very  often;  sometimes  at 
the  Delevan,  or  the  Windsor,  or  in  fact, 
any  of  the  hotels  on  the  Bowery  were  good 
enough  for  me — that  is,  if  I  had  the  price, 
fifteen  cents.  You  can  get  a  bed  in  a 
lodging-house  for  ten  cents,  or  if  you  have 


70  Dave    Ranney 

only  seven  cents  you  can  get  a  "flop." 
You  can  sit  in  some  joint  all  night  if  you 
have  a  nickel,  but  if  you  haven't  you  can 
do  the  next  best  thing  in  line,  and  that  is 
"carry  the  banner."  Think  of  walking 
the  streets  all  night  and  being  obliged  to 
keep  moving! 

The  man  took  a  fifty-cent  piece  out  of 
his  pocket,  held  it  in  his  hand,  and  asked 
me  if  I  would  meet  him  at  the  Broome 
Street  Tabernacle  the  next  morning  at 
ten-thirty.  Now  I  wanted  that  half-dollar, 
I  wanted  it  badly!  It  meant  ten  drinks  to 
me  at  five  per.  I  would  have  promised  to 
meet  the  Devil  in  hell  for  drink,  and  fear- 
ing the  young  man  might  put  the  money 
in  his  pocket  again,  I  said  I'd  be  there. 
He  gave  me  the  half-dollar,  we  shook 
hands,  and  I  never  expected  to  see  that 
man  again. 

I  didn't  go  back  to  's,  but  to  — 

Bowery — another  place  that  has  put  more 
men  on  the  down-grade  than  any  place  I 
know.    It's  out  of  business  now,  and  as  I 


"Saved   by   Grace"  71 

pass  there  every  day  I  pray  that  all  the 
saloons  may  go.  I  drank  the  half-dollar 
up  in  quick  time,  for  with  the  Bowery 
element  it's  divy  even  with  drinks. 

BROOME  STREET  TABERNACLE 

^Morning  came,  and  I  wondered  what  I 
should  do  for  the  day.  How  I  loved  to 
stand  and  smell  the  liquor,  even  when  not 
drinking!  But  now  I  hate  it!  Oh,  what 
a  change  when  Christ  comes  into  a  man's 
heart !  I  had  stood  there  all  night  in  that 
saloon  and  didn't  feel  a  bit  tired.  I  went 
out  to  "  do "  §ome  one  else,  when  I 
thought  of  the  fellow  of  last  night.  I 
thought  I  had  sized  him  up  and  that  he 
was  easy,  so  I  started  for  the  meeting- 
place,  the  Tabernacle.  I  went  there  to 
see  if  I  could  work  him  for  a  dollar,  or 
perhaps  two. 

I  got  to  the  church  and  looked  for  a 
side  door  and  found  a  bell  which  I  rang. 
I  did  not  have  to  wait  long  before  the 
young  fellow  himself  opened  the  door. 


72  Dave    Ranney 

Out  went  his  hand,  and  he  gave  me  such 
a  shake  that  one  would  have  thought  he 
had  known  me  all  my  life.  There's  a  lot 
in  a  handshake!  "  I'm  glad  to  see  you!  " 
he  said.  "I  knew  you  would  keep  your 
promise.    I  knew  you  would  come." 

That  took  me  back  a  little.  Here  was 
a  man  I  had  never  seen  till  the  night  be- 
fore taking  me  at  my  word.  I  wondered 
who  he  was.  We  went  into  the  church. 
He  was  talking  to  make  me  feel  at  home. 
Finally  he  looked  me  over  from  head  to 
feet  and  said,  "  Are  those  the  best  clothes 
you  have?"  I  said,  "These  are  the  best 
and  only  clothes  I  have."  I  had  my  trunk 
on  my  back,  and  the  whole  kit,  shoes  and 
all,  wasn't  worth  fifty  cents.  The  way  of 
the  drunkard  is  hard.  I  had  helped  put 
diamonds  on  the  saloon-keeper  and  rags 
on  myself,  but  if  there  are  any  diamonds 
now  I'll  put  them  on  my  own  little  wife 
and  not  the  saloon-keeper's.  The  young 
man  said,  "  I've  a  nice  suit  that  will  fit 
you.    Will  you  let  me  give  it  to  you?  " 


"Saved  by  Grace"  73 

Here  was  a  situation  that  puzzled  me. 
I  was  an  old  offender,  had  "  been  up  " 
many  times  and  was  well  known  to  the 
police.  My  record  was  bad,  and  when- 
ever there  was  a  robbery  or  hold-up  the 
police  would  round  up  all  the  ex-convicts 
and  line  us  up  at  headquarters  for  identi- 
fication. Give  a  dog  a  bad  name  and  it 
sticks.  I  was  suspicious;  a  man  that  has 
"  done  time  '*  always  is ;  and  when  the 
young  man  said  he  had  clothes  for  me,  I 
put  him  down  as  one  of  the  *'  stool  pi- 
geons "  working  in  with  the  police.  Since 
I'd  graduated  to  the  Bowery  doing 
crooked  work  I  imagined  every  one  was 
against  me.  It  was  a  case  of  "  doing  " 
others  or  they  would  "  do  "  me.  And  I 
wondered  why  this  man  took  such  an  in- 
terest in  me.  The  more  I  thought  the 
more  puzzled  I  got. 

I  looked  about  me.  I  was  in  a  church ; 
why  should  he  do  me  any  harm?  Then  I 
thought  that  if  I  put  on  the  clothes  he 
might  slip  an  IngersoU  watch  into  the 


74  Dave    Ranney 

pocket,  let  me  get  on  the  street,  and  then 
shout  "  Stop,  thief! "  I'd  be  arrested  and 
then  it  would  be  away  up  the  river  for  a 
good  long  bit.  However,  I'm  a  pretty- 
good  judge  of  human  nature,  and  I 
thought  I'd  take  a  chance.  It  was  a  fine 
suit;  and  I  could  just  see  myself  putting 
it  in  pawn,  so  I  said  I'd  take  it.  But 
"there's  many  a  slip  'twixt  the  cup  and 
lip,"  and  there  was  a  strange  slip  in  my 
case. 

The  young  fellow  said,  "Don't  you 
think  you  had  better  have  a  bath  ? "  Well, 
I  did  need  a  bath  for  fair.  A  man  sleep- 
ing in  one  bed  one  night  and  a  different 
one  the  next,  walking  the  streets  and  sit- 
ting around  on  park  benches,  gets  things 
on  him,  and  they  are  grandparents  in  a 
couple  of  nights.  Of  course  I  needed  a 
bath!  I  was  a  walking  menagerie!  He 
gave  me  some  money,  and  I  went  out  and 
had  a  bath  and  came  back  with  the 
change.  He  showed  me  where  I  could 
change  my  clothes,  and  there  was  a  whole 


"Saved   by   Grace"  75 

outfit  laid  out  for  me,  underwear  and 

an. 

I  thought  the  man  was  crazy.  I  could 
not  understand.  At  last  I  got  into  the 
clothes,  and  I  felt  fine.  I  got  a  look  at 
myself  in  the  glass,  and  I  looked  like  a 
full-fledged  Bowery  politician.  I  said  as 
I  looked,  "Is  this  me  or  some  other  fel- 
low? "  I  weighed  one  hundred  and  ninety 
pounds  and  was  five  feet  ten  inches  tall. 

I  went  into  the  young  man's  study  and 
sat  down.  I  did  not  know  what  was  com- 
ing next,  perhaps  money.  I  was  ready 
for  anything,  for  I  took  him  for  a  mil- 
lionaire's son. 

Up  to  this  time  he  had  said  nothing  to 
me  about  God.  Finally  he  opened  up  and 
asked  my  name.  I  told  him  Dave  Ran- 
ney,  but  I  had  a  few  others  to  use  in  a 
pinch.  And  I  told  him  the  truth;  kind- 
ness had  won.  w,  .^...,. 

He  said,  "  Dave,  why  are  you  leading 
such  a  life?  Don't  you  know  you  were 
cut  out  for  a  far  better  one  ? "    I  was  no 


76  Dave    Ranney 

f  ool ;  I  knew  all  about  that.  I  had  learned 
it  in  Sunday-school,  and  how  often  mother 
had  told  me  the  same  thing.  I  knew  I 
was  put  into  the  world  to  get  the  best, 
and  glorify  God;  and  I  was  getting  the 
worst,  and  it  was  all  my  own  fault.  Here 
I  was.  I  felt  that  no  one  wanted  any- 
thing to  do  with  me,  no  one  would  trust 
me,  because  I  was  a  jail-bird.  But  I  have 
found  out  since  there  are  people  that  are 
willing  to  help  a  man  if  they  see  he  is  on 
the  level. 

"Why,"  I  said,  "a  man  that  has  no 
backing  has  no  show  in  'little  old  New 
York.'  You  even  have  to  have  a  pull  to 
get  a  job  shoveling  snow,  and  then  you 
have  to  buy  your  own  shovel  1  What  does 
any  one  care?  The  politicians  have  all 
they  want  and  are  only  looking  for  more 
graft.  They  need  you  just  twice  a  year 
to  register  and  vote.  I  know  I*m  crooked, 
and  it's  my  own  fault,  I  admit,  but  "who's 
going  to  give  me  a  chance?  Oh,  for  a 
chancel" 


"Saved   by   Gkace"  77 

The  young  fellow  listened,  then  said, 
"  Dave,  there's  One  that  will  help." 

I  did  not  catch  on  to  his  meaning,  but 
said  I  was  glad  and  thanked  him  for  what 
he  had  done.  I  thought  he  meant  himself. 
"Not  I,"  he  said;  "  I  mean  God.  Why 
don't  you  give  Him  a  chance?  Talk  about 
men  giving  you  a  chance — why,  God  is 
waiting  for  a  chance  to  help  you! " 

Just  then  my  old  friend  the  Devil  came 
in;  he  always  does  when  he  thinks  he  is 
going  to  lose  a  convert ;  and  he  said  in  his 
own  fine  way,  "  Oh,  what  rot!  Why  didn't 
God  help  you  before  this?  Don't  bother 
about  it;  you  have  a  nice  suit;  get  out  of 
this  place  and  sell  the  duds  and  have  a 
good  time.  I'll  help  you.  I'll  be  your 
friend."  He's  sly,  but  I  put  him  behind 
me  that  time. 

It  was  easy  enough  for  this  man  to 
talk  about  God  giving  me  a  chance,  but 
he  didn't  know  me— a  hard,  wicked  sin- 
ner, who  if  half  the  crimes  I  had  commit- 
ted were  known  I'd  be  put  in  prison  for 


78  Dave    Ranney 

life.  Would  God  help  such  a  one?  I 
knew  I  was  clean  and  had  a  good  suit  of 
clothes  on,  hut,  oh!  how  I  wished  God 
would  give  me  another  chance!  But  I 
felt  as  if  He  had  no  use  for  me. 

The  man  put  his  hand  on  my  shoulder 
and  said,  "  I  want  to  he  your  friend ;  will 
you  let  me? "  I  said  1*3  be 'proud  of  such 
a  friend.  "  Now,  Dave,"  he  said,  "  there's 
One  better  than  I  Who  will  stick  to  you 
closer  than  a  brother ;  will  you  let  Him  be 
your  friend? "  I  said  I  would,  though  I 
doubted  if  He  wanted  any  part  of  me, 
but  I  was  going  to  make  a  try;  and  the 
young  man  and  myself  knelt  down  in  the 
Tabernacle,  corner  of  Broome  Street  and 
Centre  Market  Place,  on  the  16th  of  Sep- 
tember, 1892,  and  I  asked  God  to  have 
mercy  on  me,  cut  the  drink  out  of  my  life, 
and  make  a  man  of  me,  if  such  a  thing 
could  be  done,  for  Christ's  sake.  I  kept 
praying  that  over  and  over  again,  the 
man  still  kneeling  with  me,  when  all  of 
a  sudden  I  heard  a  voice  say,  "I  will. 


"Saved   by   Grace"  79 

Dave;  only  trust  Me  and  have  faith."  I 
heard  those  words  just  as  sure  as  I  am 
living,  and  writing  this  book.  None  but 
a  Christian  can  understand  this  voice; 
others  would  say  we  are  crazy  who  say 
such  things ;  but  it's  true :  only  have  faith, 
and  all  things  are  yours.    I've  proved  it! 

A  NEW  MAN  IN  CHRIST  JESUS 

I  rose  from  my  knees  a  changed  man. 
I  can't  explain  it,  but  I  felt  as  I  hadn't 
felt  in  years — lighter,  happier,  with  a 
peace  that  was  great  in  my  heart.  I 
thought  of  mother  and  only  wished  she 
could  see  me  then,  but  she  did  all  right. 

"What  will  your  friends  say?"  there 
was  the  old  Devil  saying.  "  Get  out  of 
this  place,  and  don't  be  a  fool ;  be  a  man." 

I  stood  there  listening  to  the  tempter, 
when  the  young  fellow  said,  "  Dave,  what 
are  you  going  to  do  now  that  you  have 
taken  Jesus?" 

I  said,  "  I've  knelt  here  and  asked  God 
for  Christ's  sake  to  make  me  a  sober  man. 


^0  Dave    Ranney 

and  I  fully  believe  that  He  will.  DrinK 
has  brought  me  down,  and  I'll  die  before 
I'll  take  another  drink."  And  at  this 
writing  I'm  over  seventeen  years  off  the 
stuff. 

I  asked  the  young  fellow  what  his  name 
was,  and  found  that  he  was  Alexander 
Irvine,  lodging-house  missionary  to  the 
Bowery  under  the  New  York  City  jNIis- 
sion  of  which  Dr.  Schauffler  is  the  head. 
We  shook  hands,  and  before  we  parted 
we  made  a  compact  that  we  would  be  pals. 

Isn't  it  wonderful  what  God  can  do?  I 
don't  believe  there's  a  man  or  woman,  no 
matter  how  wicked,  no  matter  what  sin 
they've  done,  but  God  can  and  will  save, 
the  only  conditions  being :  Come,  believe, 
and  trust.  "  For  God  so  loved  the  world 
that  He  gave  His  onh''-begotten  Son,  that 
whosoever  believeth  in  Him  should  not 
perish,  but  have  everlasting  life." — John 
3:16.  But  you  have  to  have  some  sand 
of  your  own. 


CHAPTER  V 

ON  THE  UP  GRADE 

TV/TR.  IRVINE  paid  for  my  lodging 
and  meals  for  a  week  at  105  Bow- 
ery. I  thought  he  was  great;  I'd  never 
run  up  against  anything  like  him.  He 
said,  "We  must  get  you  a  job  of  some 
kind,  and  that  quick.  Will  you  work?" 
Well,  what  do  you  think  of  that!  Would 
I  work?  It  struck  me  as  funny.  Work 
and  I  had  fallen  out  long  ago.  I  could  lie 
down  beside  work  and  watch  the  other 
fellow  do  it.  I  had  reached  the  point 
where,  like  a  good  many  others,  I  felt 
the  world  owed  me  a  living,  and  I  was 
bound  to  get  it.  I  had  toiled  hard  and 
faithfully  for  the  Devil,  and  taken  a  great 
many  chances,  and  I  never  thought  of 
that  as  work.  And  I  got  the  wages  the 
Devil  always  pays — cuts,  shot,  prison: 
I  was  paid  good  and  plenty.     Here  I 

81 


82  Dave    Ranney 

was  up  against  another  proposition — 
work — and  I  hated  it! 

Irvine  said,  "  You  must  have  some- 
thing to  occupy  your  mind  and  time,  for 
you  know  the  Devil  finds  mischief  for 
idlers."  I  said  I'd  tackle  anything;  I'd 
work  all  right.  A  few  days  later  he  told 
me  he  had  a  job  for  me.  "  Good,"  I  said. 
I  wondered  what  kind  of  work  it  was.  I 
knew  it  was  not  a  position  of  great  trust, 
not  a  cashier  in  a  bank;  that  would  have 
to  come  later  on.  Well,  the  job  was  tend- 
ing a  furnace — get  up  steam  at  5  a.  m., 
do  the  chores,  and  make  myself  generally 
useful;  wages  $12.00  per  month  and  my 
breakfast  I 

I  did  not  like  this  for  a  starter,  and  I 
told  Mr.  Irvine  so,  and  he  had  to  do  some 
tall  talking.  He  finally  got  angry  and 
said,  "  Ranney,  you  started  out  to  let  God 
help  you.  Well,  you  know  God  helps 
the  man  that  helps  himself."  That  was 
so.  I  had  asked  God  to  help  me,  and 
here  I  was  at  the  start  refusing  to  give 


On   the  Up   Grade  83 

Him  a  chance.  That  cHnched  it,  and  I 
took  the  first  honest  job  I  had  had  in  a 
good  many  years.  I  thank  God  I  did 
take  it,  for  it  was  a  stepping-stone. 

FISHING  FOR  A  DINNER 

I  started  in  working  and  was  getting 
on  fine,  but  I  alwajT-s  felt  I  wasn't  getting 
money  enough.  I  tried  in  my  leisure  time 
for  another  job,  but  in  all  the  places  I 
was  asked  the  same  question:  "  Where 
did  you  work  last?"  I  could  not  tell 
them,  "  In  prison  and  on  the  road,"  and 
that  queered  me.  So  I  stuck  to  the 
furnace,  was  always  on  time,  and  was 
pretty  well  liked  by  the  people.  I  had 
been  there  about  two  weeks,  and  seen  the 
cook  every  day  and  smelled  the  steak, 
etc.,  about  noontime  and  at  supper,  but 
the  cook  never  asked  me  if  I  had  a  mouth 
on  me.  She  was  a  good-natured  out- 
spoken Irish  woman  with  a  good  big 
heart,  and  I  thought  about  this  time  that 
I'd  jolly  her  a  little  and  get  my  dinner. 


84  Dave    Ranney 

One  day  I  came  up  from  the  cellar  carry- 
ing a  hod  of  coal  in  each  hand,  and  going 
into  the  kitchen  I  tried  in  every  way  to 
attract  her  attention,  but  she  was  busy 
broiling  a  steak  and  never  looked  around. 
Finally  I  got  tired  and  said,  "  Cook,  where 
will  I  put  this  coal?"  Well,  well,  I'll 
never  forget  that  moment  in  years!  She 
turned  and  looked  at  me  and  began,  "  I 
want  you  to  understand  my  name  is  INIrs. 
Cunningham.  I'm  none  of  your  cooks, 
and  if  you  dare  call  me  cook  again  while 
you're  in  this  house  I'll  have  you  sacked 
— discharged !  "  I  thought  I  had  been 
hit  with  a  steam  car.  I  did  not  answer  her 
back,  and  she  kept  right  on:  "  I'm  a 
lady,  and  I'll  be  treated  as  such  or  I'll 
know  why!"  I  never  saw  a  person  so 
mad  in  all  my  life,  and  I  couldn't  under- 
stand why.  There  she  was  cooking,  and 
yet  she  was  no  cook !  I  thought  to  mj'^self , 
"I  guess  she  doesn't  like  her  job."  I 
didn't  blame  her,  because  I  didn't  like 
mine  either. 


On  the  Up  Grade         85 

My  heart  went  down  into  my  boots. 
Here  I  had  made  a  play  for  a  dinner  and 
got  left.  About  a  week  after  this  I  was 
doing  a  little  job  in  the  laundry  when  I 
ran  across  the  cook,  and  she  said,  "Young 
man,  would  you  like  a  little  bite  to  eat?" 
I  answered  quicklj^  "Yes,  thank  you, 
INIrs.  Cunningham,"  just  as  sweet  as  any- 
thing. No  more  "  cook  "  for  mine.  I'll 
never  call  people  by  their  occupation  again 
as  long  as  I  live.  I'd  had  my  lesson;  but 
I  had  won  out  on  my  dinner  too.  A 
short  time  after  she  asked  me  if  I  could 
read,  and  would  I  read  the  news  to  her 
while  she  was  peeling  potatoes.  I  an- 
swered very  sweetly,  "Yes,  Mrs.  Cun- 
ningham," and  I  got  my  supper. 

I  would  see  Irvine  once  in  a  while,  and 
I  was  always  ready  to  give  up  my  job, 
but  he  would  say,  "  Stay  six  months,  get 
a  recommend,  and  then  you  can  get  some- 
thing better.  Just  let  God  take  care  of 
you,  and  you'll  come  out  away  on  top  of 
the  heap.    God  is  going  to  use  you  in  His 


86  Dave     Ranney 

work.  Just  keep  on  trusting  and  don't 
get  discouraged."  He  always  had  a  word 
of  cheer,  and  I  thank  God  that  I  did 
trust,  and  things  came  out  better  than  I 
even  thought. 

You  readers  who  are  just  starting  out 
in  the  Christian  hfe,  just  let  God  have 
His  way.  Don't  think  you  know  it  all. 
Go  right  ahead,  have  a  little  sand,  and 
trust  Him.  He  will  never  leave  you,  and 
you  will  have  the  best  in  this  life  and  in 
the  life  to  come.  It's  an  everlasting  joy, 
and  isn't  it  worth  working  for,  boys? 

PRAYERS  IN   A   LODGING-HOUSE 

I  remember,  when  I  knelt  down  in  105 
Bowery  beside  my  cot  to  ask  God's  bless- 
ing and  guidance,  how  a  laugh  used  to 
go  around  the  dormitory.  There  were 
about  seventy  beds  in  the  place,  and  it 
was  something  unusual  to  see  a  man  on 
his  knees  praying.  But  when  I  started 
out  to  be  a  man  I  meant  business,  and  I 
said  I  would  say  my  prayers  every  night. 


On   the  Up   Grade  87 

I  don't  think  God  can  think  much  of  a 
man  who  says  his  prayers  lying  on  his 
back,  unless  he's  sick.  I  believe  God  ex- 
pects us  to  get  on  our  knees,  for  if  a  thing 
is  worth  getting  it's  worth  thanks.  I 
didn't  mind  the  laugh  so  much,  but  I  did 
some:  it  was  sort  of  cutting.  I'm  no 
coward  physically,  and  can  handle  myself 
fairly  well  at  the  present  time,  but  when 
it  came  to  getting  on  my  knees  I  was  a 
rank  coward. 

A  lodging-house  is  a  queer  affair. 
Men  of  all  nations  sleep  there — some 
drunk,  some  dreaming  aloud,  others  snor- 
ing. The  cots  are  about  two  feet  apart 
— just  room  for  you  to  pass  between 
them.  It  takes  a  lot  of  grit  and  plenty 
of  God's  grace  to  live  a  Christian  life  in 
a  lodging-house.  I  go  in  them  every 
day  now  to  look  after  the  other  fellow: 
if  he  is  sick  or  wants  to  go  to  the  hospital 
I'll  see  to  that;  but  I  never  can  forget 
the  time  when  I  was  one  of  those  in- 
mates. 


88  Dave    Ranney 

One  night  I  had  just  got  on  my  knees 
when  boots,  shoes,  and  pillows  came  sail- 
ing at  me;  one  boot  hit  me,  and  it  did 
hurt  for  fair.  Then  a  whiskey  flask  hit 
me,  and  that  hurt.  I  was  boiling  with 
rage.  I  got  up,  but  I  didn't  say  any- 
thing ;  no  one  would  have  answered  me  if 
I  had;  they  were  all  asleep,  by  the  way. 
We  call  such  business  hazing,  but  it's 
mean  and  dirty. 

I  went  to  work  as  usual  the  next  day, 
and  thought  and  planned  all  day  how  to 
catch  one  of  those  fellows.  I  figured  out 
the  following  plan:  I  did  not  go  to  bed 
that  night  until  quite  late;  the  gas  was 
turned  down  low,  and  I  made  noise 
enough  for  them  to  hear  me.  When  I 
was  ready  for  bed  I  knelt  down  and 
turned  my  head  as  quick  as  a  flash  to 
catch  the  throwers,  for  I  knew  they  would 
iihrow  again.  Just  as  I  turned  I  caught 
the  fellow  in  the  act  of  throwing  a  bottle. 
It  seemed  as  though  the  Devil  had  got 
me  for  fair  again,  for  I  made  a  rush  for 


On  the  Up  Grade  89 

that  fellow,  got  him  by  the  throat,  pulled 
him  out  of  bed  and  jumped  on  him,  and 
I  think  if  it  hadn't  been  for  the  watch- 
man I  would  have  killed  him;  but  he 
said,  "Dan,  for  God's  sake  don't  kill 
him! "  I  let  up,  and,  standing  upon  that 
dormitory  floor,  beds  all  around,  every 
one  awake,  about  11  p.  m.,  I  gave  my 
first  testimony,  which  was  something  like 
this:  "Men,  I've  quit  drinking — been 
off  the  stuff  about  two  weeks,  a  thing  I 
have  not  done  in  years  unless  locked  up. 
I've  knelt  and  asked  God  to  keep  me 
sober  and  have  thanked  Him  for  His 
kindness  to  me.  Now  if  you  men  don't 
let  me  alone  in  the  future  I'll  lick  you  or 
you  will  me." 

I  went  to  my  cot  and  knelt  down,  but 
I  was  so  stirred  up  I  couldn't  pray.  I 
wondered  if  there  was  going  to  be  any 
more  throwing,  but  that  night  finished  it. 
I  went  up  in  the  opinion  of  those  men 
one  hundred  per  cent.  I  lived  there  until 
the  place  burned  down,  and  was  one  of 


90  Dave    Ranney 

the  fortunate  ones  that  got  out  alive 
when  so  many  lost  their  lives,  and  I  al- 
ways said  my  prayers  and  was  respected 
by  the  men.  I  was  making  lots  of  friends 
and  attending  Sunday-school,  prayer- 
meeting,  and  mission  services. 

THE  STORY  OF  AN  OVERCOAT 

One  Thanksgiving-time  I  was  hired  to 
carry  dinners  to  the  poor  families  by  the 
New  York  City  Mission.  Mrs.  Lucy 
Bainbridge  was  the  superintendent.  God 
bless  her,  for  she  was  and  is  one  good  wo- 
man! I  didn't  have  any  overcoat  and  it 
was  cold;  but  I  didn't  mind,  as  I  was 
moving  about  carrying  the  dinners.  This 
was  about  two  months  after  I  had  de- 
cided to  follow  Christ,  and  I  still  had 
the  furnace  job  when  I  met  Mrs.  Bain- 
bridge. 

She  knew  me  by  sight  and  asked  me 
how  I  was  getting  on,  and  where  was  my 
overcoat?  I  told  her  I  was  getting  along 
all  right,  but  I  had  no  overcoat.  She  said. 


On  the  Up   Grade  91 

"  That's  too  bad!  Come  with  me  and  we 
will  see  if  there's  one  in  the  Dorcas 
Room" — a  place  where  clothes  are  kept 
that  good  people  send  in  for  the  poor  who 
haven't  so  much.  There  were  quite  a  few 
coats  there,  any  one  of  which  would  have 
suited  me,  but  they  didn't  please  Mrs. 
Bainbridge.  She  said,  "  David,  come  into 
the  office."  She  gave  me  a  letter  to 
Rogers,  Peet  &  Co.,  and  told  me  to  take 
it  down  there  and  wait  for  an  answer. 

I  went  down  and  gave  the  letter  to  a 
clerk,  and  it  was  great  to  see  him  eye  me 
up.  I  didn't  know  then  how  the  letter 
read,  but  have  since  learned  that  the  con- 
tents were  as  follows :  "  Give  this  man 
about  the  best  overcoat  you  have  in  the 
store."    No  wonder  he  looked  me  over! 

We  began  trjang  on  coats,  found  one 
that  suited  us,  and  he  said,  "You  might 
as  well  wear  it  home."  "  Not  on  your 
natural !  "  I  said.  "  Put  it  in  paper  or  a 
box."  I  didn't  think  that  coat  was  for 
me,  for  it  was  fifty  dollars  if   a   cent. 


02  Dave    Ranney 

Picture  me  with  twelve  dollars  per  month 
and  three  meals,  and  a  fifty-dollar  over- 
coat! 

I  went  back  to  Mrs.  Bainbridge,  and 
she  told  me  to  try  the  coat  on,  which  I 
did.  Then  she  said,  "  David,  that  coat  is 
for  you,  but  listen,  David;  that  coat  is 
mine.  Now  I  wouldn't  go  into  a  saloon, 
and  I  want  you  to  promise  me  that  you 
will  never  enter  a  saloon  while  you  wear 
it."  I  promised,  and  that  coat  never  went 
into  a  saloon,  and  I  wore  it  for  five  years. 
Then  I  sent  it  to  old  Ireland,  to  my 
wife's  father,  and  perhaps  he  is  still  wear- 
ing it.  I  often  see  IMrs.  Bainbridge,  and 
she  is  always  the  same  kind  friend,  God 
bless  her  I  I  have  entry  to  the  Dorcas 
Room  when  I  need  anything  to  help  a 
man  that  I'm  trying  to  put  on  his  feet, 
and  that's  often. 

DELIVERING  TELEPHONE  BOOKS 

It  was  coming  spring  and  I  was  no 
longer  needed  at  the  furnace.    I  left  with 


On  the  Up  Geade         93 

a  recommendation  for  six  months  and  a 
standing  invitation  from  the  cook  for 
my  meals,  and  she  never  went  back  on  me. 
I  don't  know  where  she  is  now,  but  if 
she  reads  this  book  I  want  her  to  know 
that  I  appreciated  all  she  did  for  me  when 
I  started  this  new  life  and  I  am  sure  she 
will  be  delighted  to  know  that  she  helped 
a  little. 

I  got  another  job  delivering  telephone 
books.  When  you  see  a  poor  seedy-look- 
ing man  delivering  these  books,  give  him 
a  kind  word,  for  there's  many  a  good  man 
at  that  job  to-day  hoping  for  something 
better.  This  job  was  a  hard  one  and  you 
had  to  hustle  to  make  a  dollar  a  day,  but 
I  did  not  mind  the  hustling;  I  was  strong, 
the  drink  had  gone  out  of  me,  and  I  felt 
good.  I  was  anxious  to  get  a  job  as 
porter  in  some  wholesale  house,  and  de- 
livering these  books  gave  me  a  good 
chance  to  ask,  and  ask  I  did  in  nearly 
every  store  where  I  delivered  a  book.  I 
always   got   the   same   reply,    "No   one 


94  DaveRanney 

wanted."  I  stayed  at  this  about  three 
months,  and  was  getting  discouraged.  It 
looked  as  though  I'd  never  get  a  steady 
position. 

I  had  only  a  few  more  days  of  work, 
and  was  just  finishing  my  deliveries  one 
afternoon.  I  had  Twenty-second  Street 
and  North  River  as  my  last  delivery, 
which  took  me  into  the  lumber  district  and 

into  the  office  of  John  3IcC .    I  asked 

the  young  man  in  charge  of  the  office  if 
they  wanted  a  young  fellow  to  work.  He 
asked  me  what  I  could  do,  and  I  said, 
"  Anything."  Now  it's  an  old  saying, 
"A  man  that  can  do  everything  can't  do 
much  of  anything." 

We  went  down  into  the  yard  and  he 
asked  me  the  different  qualities  of  lumber 
and  their  names.  I'll  never  forget  the 
first  question  he  asked  me,  which  was, 
"  What's  the  name  of  that  piece  of  tim- 
ber? "  I  said,  "  Oak,"  and  I  was  right. 
After  testing  me  on  the  other  piles  he 
asked  me  if  I  could  measure,  and  could  I 


On  the  Up   Grade  95 

tally?  I  told  him  I  could,  and  he  said, 
"I'll  give  you  $9.00.  Is  that  enough?" 
I  said  that  would  do  for  a  starter,  and 
he  told  me  to  be  on  hand  at  seven  o'clock 
in  the  morning. 

I  delivered  the  few  books  I  had  left, 
drew  my  money,  got  a  shave,  bought  a 
leather  apron,  and  went  to  bed.     I  was 

up  and  at  John  McC 's  yard  at  6:30. 

He  was  Police  Commissioner  then,  and 
one  of  the  whitest  men  I  ever  ran  up 
against. 

I  started  in  at  my  third  job  since  I  had 
been  converted.  I  was  at  home  in  the 
lumber  yard,  as  I  had  learned  the  busi- 
ness wliile  roughing  it  in  Tonawanda, 
Troy,  Syracuse,  Buffalo,  and  on  the 
Lakes.  And  when  a  man  learns  any- 
thing, if  he  isn't  a  fool  he  can  always  work 
at  it  again.  Here  I  was  at  a  business 
few  could  tell  me  much  about. 

TESTIFYING  IN  A  LUMBER  YARD 

The  lumber-handlers  as  a  rule  are  a 


96  Dave    Ranney 

free  and  easy  set,  nearly  all  drinking  men. 
It's  warm  work,  and  when  a  man  is 
piling  all  day,  pulling  up  plank  after 
plank,  he  thinks  a  pint  of  beer  does  him 
good.  They  rush  the  can — first  the  piler, 
then  the  stager,  and  then  the  ground  man, 
then  the  piler  again,  and  so  on.  I've 
counted  as  many  as  twenty  pints  in  one 
day  among  one  gang.  T  soon  got  the 
run  of  the  yard  and  made  friends  with 
all  the  men;  but  if  ever  I  was  up  against 
temptation  it  was  there  in  that  yard, 
where  I  worked  a  long  time.  They  would 
ask  me  to  have  a  drink,  but  I  told  them 
time  and  time  again  that  I  did  not  care 
about  it ;  I  was  off  the  stuff. 

Often  when  I  was  sweating  after  push- 
ing down  a  load  of  lumber  from  the  pile 
and  keeping  talh"  at  the  same  time,  the 
Devil  would  whisper  to  me,  "  Oh,  have 
a  glass  of  beer;  it  won't  hurt  you;  it  will 
do  you  good,"  and  I  was  tempted  to  join 
with  the  men  and  drink.  I  had  to  keep 
praying  hard  and  fast,  for  I  was  sorely 


On  the  Up  Geade  97 

tempted.     But,  thank  God,  I've  yet  to 
take  my  first  drink  since  1892 ! 

God  was  always  near  me,  and  He  often 
said,  *'  Tell  the  men  all  about  it,  how  you 
have  asked  Me  to  help  you,  and  they 
won't  ask  you  to  drink  any  more."  I 
wondered  what  the  men  would  say  if  I 
told  them.  I  was  a  little  timid  about 
doing  it.  I  had  testified  once  or  twice  in 
a  meeting,  but  that  was  easy  compared 
with  this.  But  after  a  while  I  got  up 
courage  and  told  the  men  why  I  did  not 
drink.  I  said,  "  I  have  been  a  hard  man 
and  loved  drink  so  much  that  it  separated 
me  from  family  and  friends,  put  me  in 
prison,  and  took  my  manhood  away.  One 
year  ago  I  took  Jesus  as  my  helper  and 
asked  Him  to  take  away  this  love  for 
drink,  and  He  did.  I  would  rather  lose 
my  right  arm  than  go  back  again,  and 
with  God's  help  I'll  win  out  and  never 
drink  again."  I  often  talked  with  them 
about  it,  told  them  it  was  a  good  way  to 
live,  and  to  think  it  over.     I  found  out 


98  Dave    Ranney 

in  a  little  while  that  the  men  thought 
better  of  me,  and  respected  me  more  than 
before.  I  have  heard  some  of  them  say, 
"I  wish  I  could  give  up  the  drink,"  and 
some  did,  and  are  living  good  lives  with- 
out the  cursed  stuff. 

I've  met  some  of  these  men  on  the 
Bowery,  "  down  and  out,"  and  I've  stood 
by  them  and  tried  to  point  them  in  the 
right  direction.  There's  one  man,  a  fine 
noble  fellow,  who  used  to  work  with  me 
in  my  lumber  days,  who  is  on  the  Bowery 
at  the  present  time,  unable  to  give  up  the 
drink.  He  is  always  glad  to  see  me  and 
says,  "  God  bless  you,  Dan,  and  keep  you 
away  from  the  stuff.  I  wish  I  could!" 
I  tell  him  to  ask  God  and  have  faith,  and 
then  I  slip  him  a  meal  ticket  and  give 
him  a  God  bless  you! 


CHAPTER  VI 
PROMOTED 

T  HAD  never  lost  sight  of  my  friend 
-"■  Irvine.  We  used  to  see  each  other 
often  and  have  a  good  chat  about  things 
in  general.  He  said  he  was  going  to  take 
charge  of  the  Sea  and  Land  Church  and 
wanted  me  to  come  and  be  the  sexton. 
It  would  give  me  $30.00  per  month, 
rooms,  coal  and  gas.  He  thought  it  would 
be  a  good  thing  for  me  to  become  reunited 
to  my  wife  Mary,  and  I  thought  so  too, 
but  she  had  to  give  her  consent.  We  had 
been  separated  for  a  number  of  years, 
and  though  I  had  been  calling  on  her  for 
over  a  year  she  never  took  any  stock  in 
my  conversion.  Here  I  was  fifteen  months 
a  redeemed  man,  trj^ing  to  get  my  wife 
to  live  with  me  again.  I  prayed  often, 
but  I  never  thought  she  would  consent. 

99 


100  Dave    Ranney 

church  of  sea  and  land 

I  was  married  young,  and  she  was  only 
a  girl,  and  though  she  loved  me  she  could 
not  forget  the  misery  and  hardships  she 
went  through.  I  never  hit  her  in  my  life, 
but  I  wouldn't  support  her:  I'd  rather 
support  the  rumseller  and  his  family,  all 
for  that  cursed  drink.  And  I  didn't  blame 
her  for  being  afraid  to  chance  it  again. 
"A  burnt  child  dreads  the  fire."  I  had 
made  her  life  very  hard,  and  she  was 
afraid.  She  was  glad  to  know  that  I  had 
given  up  drink,  but  doubted  my  remain- 
ing sober.  Finally  she  agreed  to  live  with 
me  again  if  I  remained  sober  for  three 
years.  I  was  put  on  probation — the 
Methodist  way.  Now  I  had  been  on  the 
level  for  fifteen  months,  and  I  had  twenty- 
one  months  more  to  go.  She  was  strong- 
minded  and  would  stick  to  her  word,  so 
I  did  not  see  how  I  could  take  the  job  as 
sexton. 

I  told  Mr.  Irvine  that  was  the  way 


I.    THI-:   CHURCH    OF    SKA    AM)    I.ANIf. 
2.    MIDMCHT    MISSION,    CHINATOWN. 


Promoted  101 

things  stood  and  for  him  to  get  some  one 
else.  He  said,  "Pretty  slim  chances,  but 
we  will  pray  about  it."  He  and  I  went 
up  to  Sixty-seventh  Street,  where  Mrs. 
Ranney  was  working  as  laimdress,  and 
after  a  little  talk  we  came  to  the  point.  I 
was  a  go-ahead  man,  and  tried  every  way 
to  get  her  to  promise  to  come  do^vn,  but 
she  wouldn't  say  j^es.  I'll  never  forget 
that  night  in  the  laundry  if  I  live  a  hun- 
dred years ;  she  took  no  stock  in  me  at  all. 
I  was  giving  it  up  as  a  bad  job;  she 
wouldn't  come,  and  that  settled  it.  We 
got  up  to  go  when  INIr.  Irvine  asked  if 
she  would  object  to  a  word  of  prayer.  She 
said,  "Xo,"  and  we  had  a  little  prayer- 
meeting  right  there.  We  bade  ]Mrs.  Ran- 
ney good-night  and  left. 

The  next  night  she  came  down  and 
we  showed  her  all  over  the  church.  iThe 
sexton  who  had  been  living  there  hadn't 
kept  the  living  aj^artments  clean,  and  she 
did  not  like  them  very  much,  but  when 
she  went  away  she  said,  "  If  I  only  could 


102  Dave    Ranney 

be  sure  you  would  keep  sober  I  would  go 
with  you,  but  I  can't  depend  on  you.  Fif- 
teen months  isn't  long  enough;  you  will 
have  to  go  three  years.  I  don't  think  I'll 
come."  I  said,  "That  settles  it!  But 
listen :  whether  you  come  or  not,  I  am  not 
going  back  to  the  old  life."  The  next  day 
I  received  a  telegram  from  Mary  saying, 

"come  up  for  my  things." 

I  jumped  on  a  single  truck,  drove 
up  to  Sixty-seventh  Street,  and  got 
all  my  wife's  things,  trunks,  band-boxes 
and  everything,  and  it  did  not  take  me 
long  to  get  down  to  the  church.  INIary 
was  already  there,  and  I  took  charge  of 
the  Church  of  the  Sea  and  Land  at  Mar- 
ket and  Henry  Streets,  where  I  remained 
as  sexton  for  ten  years.  I  would  not  take 
$10,000  for  the  character  I  received  from 
the  trustees  when  I  resigned.  I  always 
look  back  with  pleasure  to  those  good  old 
days  at  the  church,  the  many  friends  we 


Promoted  103 

made,  and  the  many  blessings  I  received 
while  there. 

It  did  not  take  us  long  to  get  the  run 
of  the  place.  We  sent  for  our  boy,  who 
was  in  Ireland  with  his  mother's  folks. 
When  he  came  I  didn't  know  him,  as  I 
hadn't  seen  him  since  he  was  a  little  baby. 
What  a  surprise  it  was  when  at  my  sister's 
house,  after  supper,  she  went  into  the 
front  room,  leaving  me  alone  in  the 
kitchen,  when  a  manly  little  fellow  came 
in  and  looked  me  over  and  said,  "  Hello, 
father,  I'm  your  son  Willie.  How  are 
you?" 

I  looked  at  him,  but  couldn't  say  a 
word,  for  I  had  almost  forgotten  that  I 
had  a  son.  I  opened  my  arms  and  the 
boy  came  with  a  rush,  threw  his  arms 
around  my  neck,  and  said,  "I  love  you, 
dad." 

I  want  to  say  here  that  this  boy  has 
never  given  me  any  trouble  and  we  have 
been  companions  ever  since  that  night. 


104  Dave    Ranney 

He  married  a  good  Christian  girl  and  is 
in  his  own  home  to-day. 

I  heard  a  little  laugh,  and  there  were 
my  sister  and  Mary  taking  it  all  in.  I 
could  see  then  that  it  was  a  put-up  job, 
this  getting  me  to  go  up  to  my  sister's 
house. 

Time  passed  and  we  were  doing  finely. 
One  day  we  heard  the  boy  playing  the 
piano,  and  we  got  him  a  teacher.  In  a 
short  time  he  was  able  to  play  for  the 
smaller  classes,  the  juniors.  Then  my 
friend  Mrs.  Bainbridge  got  him  a  better 
teacher.  He  improved  rapidly,  and  now 
he  is  organist  in  the  Fifty-seventh  Street 
Presbyterian  Church. 

I  tell  you  it  pays  to  be  a  Christian  and 
on  the  level.  If  I  hadn't  done  anything 
else  but  give  that  boy  a  musical  education, 
it  would  have  paid.    I'm  proud  of  him. 

MY   FIRST   SERMON 

I  remember  the  first  meeting  I  ever 
led.    It  came  about  like  this :    I  had  been 


Promoted  105 

sexton  of  Sea  and  Land  Church  about 
four  years,  was  growing  in  grace  and  get- 
ting on  finely.  One  Wednesday  night  the 
minister  asked  me  if  I  would  lead  the 
prayer-meeting  the  following  week,  as  he 
was  going  away.  I  told  him  I  did  not 
know  how  to  lead  a  meeting  and  I  was 
afraid  to  undertake  it,  as  I  couldn't 
preach  a  sermon.  "  Oh,  that's  all  right," 
he  said.  "I'll  write  out  something,  and 
all  you  will  have  to  do  is  to  study  it  a 
little,  read  it  over  once  or  twice,  then  get 
up  and  read  it  off."  I  told  him  I'd  try. 
I'd  do  the  best  I  could.  So  he  wrote  about 
ten  sheets  of  foolscap  paper,  all  about  sin- 
ners. I  remember  there  was  a  story  about 
a  man  going  over  the  falls  in  a  boat,  and 
lots  of  other  interesting  things  as  I 
thought.  I  took  the  paper  home  and 
studied  as  hard  as  I  could  to  get  it  into 
my  head. 

The  night  came  on  which  I  was  to  take 
the  meeting — that  eventful  night  in  my 
life.     I  got  on  the  platform,  took  the 


106  Dave    Ranney 

papers  out  of  my  pocket,  and  opened  the 
big  Bible  at  the  chapter  I  was  going  to 
read,  and  laid  out  the  talk  just  as  I 
thought  a  minister  might  do.  I  read  the 
chapter,  then  we  had  a  song,  then  it  was 
up  to  me. 

Do  you  know  I  made  the  greatest  mis- 
take of  my  life  that  night!  I  went  on 
that  platform  trusting  in  my  own  strength 
and  not  asking  God's  help.  I  got  a  swelled 
head  and  imagined  I  was  the  real  thing. 
But  God  in  His  own  way  showed  me 
where  I  was  standing  and  brought  me  up 
with  a  short  turn. 

I  began  reading  the  article  written,  and 
was  getting  on  well,  as  I  thought,  taking 
all  the  credit  myself  and  not  giving  God 
any.  I  read  three  pages  all  right,  when 
some  one  opened  the  window.  It  was  a 
]March  night,  very  Avindy,  and  when  the 
window  was  opened  something  happened, 
and  I  thank  God  that  it  did. 

The  wind  came  directly  toward  me  and 
took  the  sermon  I  was  preaching  and 
scattered  it  all  over  the  room.     I  didn't 


Peomoted  107 

know  what  to  say  or  do.  I  forgot  every- 
thing that  was  written  on  the  papers,  and 
I  knew  if  I  tried  to  get  them  back  I  would 
make  a  fool  of  myself. 

There  was  a  smile  on  every  face  in  the 
congregation.  There  I  stood,  wishing  the 
floor  would  open  and  let  me  through.  I 
certainly  was  in  a  box  I 

Just  at  this  moment  God  spoke  to  me 
and  said,  "  David,  I  did  that,  and  I  did  it 
for  your  own  good.  Now  listen  to  me. 
You  were  not  cut  out  for  a  minister.  Just 
get  up  and  tell  these  people  how  God  for 
Christ's  sake  saved  you,  and  I'll  be  with 

you." 

I  listened  to  the  voice,  bowed  my  head 
in  prayer,  and  it  seemed  as  though  the 
Lord  put  the  words  in  my  mouth.  I  told 
that  roomful  of  people  of  my  past  life 
and  how  God  saved  and  had  blessed  me 
for  four  5"ears.  We  had  a  grand  meeting 
and  a  number  were  saved  that  night,  and, 
above  all,  I  received  one  of  the  greatest 
blessings  of  my  life. 

On  his  return  the  minister  said,  "  I  hear 


108  Dave    Ranney 

you  had  a  great  meeting.  How  did  the 
reading  go ! "  I  told  him  what  had  hap- 
pened, and  he  was  astonished,  but  saw 
God's  hand  in  it,  and  said  so. 

From  that  night  on  I  never  wrote  up 
anything  to  read  to  my  audience,  and  I 
have  spoken  all  over  within  a  circle  of 
fifty  miles  of  New  York,  and  even  farther 
away,  including  Boston,  Philadelphia, 
Albany,  and  Troy.  I  tell  the  Bowery 
boys  I'm  what  is  called  an  extemporane- 
ous talker.  I  don't  know  the  first  word 
I'm  going  to  say  when  I  get  on  my  feet, 
but  God  never  leaves  me:  I  just  open  my 
mouth  and  He  fills  it.    Praise  His  name! 

It  was  a  lesson  to  me  and  I  have  never 
forgotten  it. 

THE  TESTIMONY  OF  A  GAMBLER 

While  I  was  sexton  of  the  old  Sea  and 
Land  Church  I  met  among  other  men  one 
who  came  to  be  a  great  friend.  We  called 
ourselves  pals  and  loved  each  other  dearly, 
and  yet  I  have  never  been  able  to  bring 


Promoted  109 

him  to  Christ.  When  I  told  him  I  was 
writing  the  story  of  my  life  he  said  he 
wanted  to  add  a  few  lines  to  tell,  he  said, 
what  I  could  not.  This  is  what  he  wrote ; 
"'Lead,  Kindly  Light,'  was  the  song; 
I'll  never  forget  it.  I  heard  it  on  the 
Bowery  fifteen  years  ago.  I  was  passing 
a  IMission,  and  hearing  it  I  went  in — I 
don't  know  why  to  this  day.  After  the 
singing  some  one  prayed,  and  I  started  to 
go  out  when  the  leader  of  the  meeting 
called  for  testimonies  for  Christ.  I  waited 
and  listened,  and  I  heard  a  voice  that  made 
me  sit  down  again.  I  shall  never  forget 
the  man  that  was  speaking.  What  he 
said  sounded  like  the  truth.  It  was  the 
greatest  sermon  I  ever  listened  to.  He 
was  telling  how  much  God  had  done  for 
him,  saved  him  from  drink  and  made  a 
Christian  man  of  him.  I  knew  it  was  the 
truth.  I  went  home  that  night  to  wife 
and  children,  and  told  my  wife  where  I 
had  been.  She  laughed  and  said,  '  Dan, 
you  are  getting  daffy.'  From  that  night 


110  Dave    Ranney 

on  I  have  been  a  better  husband  and 
father. 

"  I  left  home  one  night  about  six  o'clock 
and  went  down  Cherry  Street  to  a  saloon 
where  the  gang  hang  out.  I  had  been  tell- 
ing the  boys  about  the  things  I  had  heard 
at  the  Mission.  A  young  man  said,  '  Sul- 
livan, there  was  a  young  preacher  down 
at  my  house  and  asked  me  to  come  to  a 
young  people's  meeting  at  the  Sea  and 
Land  Church.  I  promised  I  would  go,  but 
I  haven't  got  the  courage.'  In  a  moment 
I  got  churchy.  I  had  never  been  in  a 
church  in  New  York.  I  said,  '  Come  on,' 
and  we  went  to  that  meeting.  I  am  glad 
I  did.  That  night  I  met  my  friend  Ran- 
ney.  As  I  was  passing  out  of  the  meeting 
he  greeted  me — he  was  the  sexton — with 
a  handshake  and  a  '  Good-night,  old  pal ; 
come  again!'  There  is  something  in  a 
handshake,  and  as  we  shook  I  felt  I  had 
made  another  friend.  I'll  never  forget 
that  night.  We  became  fast  friends.  There 
is  no  one  that  knows  Ranney  better  than 


Promoted  111 

Sullivan.  I  have  watched  him  in  his  climb 
to  the  top  step  by  step  to  be  in  the  grand 
position  he  fills,  that  of  Lodging  House 
Missionary  to  the  Bowery  under  the  New 
York  City  Mission  and  Tract  Society. 

"  One  day  we  were  going  up  the  Bow- 
ery and  passing  a  ]Mission  went  in.  We 
heard  the  testimonies,  and  I  turned  to 
Ranney  and  said,  'Are  you  a  Christian?' 
He  said, '  I  am.'  I  said,  '  Get  up,  then,  and 
tell  the  men  what  God  has  done  for  you.' 
Now  here  I  was  a  gambler  telling  this 
man  to  acknowledge  God,  and  I  did  not 
do  it  myself!  Ranney  rose  and  turned  all 
colors.  He  finally  settled  down  to  that 
style  of  talking  which  he  alone  possesses. 
He  told  his  story  for  the  first  time.  I 
have  heard  him  hundreds  of  times  since, 
but  to  me  that  night  fifteen  years  ago  was 
the  greatest  talk  he  ever  gave,  telling  how 
God  saved  him  from  a  crooked  and 
drunken  life.  It  had  the  ring!  I  loved 
him  from  that  night  on.  When  he  got 
through  I  said,  'Dave,  God  met  you  face 


112  Dave    Ranney 

to  face  to-night.  You  will  be  a  different 
man  from  now  on.  God  spoke  to-night, 
not  you.  It  was  the  best  talk  I  ever 
heard.  It  took  you  a  long  time  to  start, 
but  nothing  can  stop  you  now.  One  word 
of  advice,  pal,  I'll  give  you:  Don't  get 
stuck  on  yourself.  God  will  use  you  when 
He  won't  others  among  your  own  kind. 
He  will  make  a  preacher  of  you  to  men 
of  your  own  stamp.'  And  Rannej^  is  to- 
day what  I  said  and  thought  he  would  be. 
"  You  would  think  that  a  man  who  had 
been  the  pal  of  Ranney  for  three  years 
would  never  say  an  unkind  word  to  one 
that  he  loved,  but  that  is  what  I  did.  We 
had  a  misunderstanding,  and  I  said  things 
to  Dave  Ranney  that  he  never  will  for- 
get. I  called  him  every  name  on  the 
calendar.  He  was  speechless  and  I 
thought  afraid  of  me.  He  never  said  a 
word.  I  left  him  standing  there  as  if  petri- 
fied— his  friend  and  pal  talking  to  him 
like  that,  his  pal  that  sang  with  him,  and 
joked  with  him  I 


Promoted  113 

"I  went  home  and  swore  that  never 
again  would  I  have  anything  to  do  with  a 
Christian.  I  had  forgotten  for  the  mo- 
ment all  the  little  kindnesses  he  had  done 
and  how  after  I  had  been  on  a  drunk  he 
had  been  at  my  bedside,  how  he  had 
spoken  words  of  cheer  and  comfort  and 
said, '  Dan,  old  man,  cheer  up.  Some  day 
you  are  going  to  cut  out  drink';  and  I 
want  to  say  right  now  that  I  have  not 
drank  in  over  twelve  years.  I'd  forgotten 
all  that.  I  only  thought  of  how  I  might 
hang  the  best  fellow  on  this  earth.  I  came 
to  myself  ten  minutes  after  I  left  him,  but 
the  work  had  been  done,  and  I  made  up 
my  mind  I'd  never  see  or  speak  to  him 
again.  I'd  go  back  to  my  old  life  of 
gambling  and  cheating,  and  I  did. 

"  Five  months  passed.  I  had  not  seen 
Ramiey  in  all  that  time.  I  was  playing 
poker  one  night,  the  16th  of  September, 
1899,  with  no  more  thought  of  Dave  than 
if  he  had  never  lived.  It  was  in  the  old 
Hotel   on   Water    Street,   a 


114  Dave    Ranney 

little  before  eight  in  tHe  evening.  My 
partner  and  I  were  having  a  pretty  easy 
time  stealing  the  other  men's  money — 
some  call  it  cheating — when  my  thoughts 
turned  to  my  old  Christian  pal  Ranney. 
It  was  the  eighth  anniversary  of  his  con- 
version. Quick  as  a  flash  I  jumped  to 
my  feet  and  said,  *Boys,  I'll  be  back  in 
an  hour.  I've  got  to  go!'  My  partner 
thought  I  had  been  caught  cheating  and 
was  going  to  cash  his  chips.  I  said,  '  I'll 
be  back  in  a  little  while.* 

"  I  ran  all  the  way  up  to  the  Bowery  to 
the  place  where  Ranney  was  holding  his 
meeting.  The  Mission  was  packed.  There 
were  a  lot  of  big-guns  on  the  platform. 
'No  one  saw  me  that  knew  me.  Ranney 
was  asking  for  those  testimonies  that 
would  help  the  other  fellow.  I  got  on 
my  feet  and  faced  him.  He  turned  pale. 
He  thought  I  was  going  to  set  him  out 
then  and  there.  He  looked  me  straight 
in  the  eye  and  began  to  come  slowly  to- 
ward me,  and  when  I  had  finished  we  had 


Promoted  115 

one  another  by  the  hand.  This  is  part  of 
what  I  said  that  night : 

"  'I  make  no  pretense  at  being  a  Chris- 
tian. I  am  a  gambler.  But  the  man  stand- 
ing there — Dave  Ranney — was  once  my 
chum  and  pal.  We  had  a  little  misunder- 
standing some  five  months  ago,  and  I  am 
here  to-night  to  ask  his  forgiveness.  For- 
give me,  Dave.  I  just  left  a  card-game  to 
come  up  to  your  anniversary  and  help 
make  you  happy.  I  know  you  don't  be- 
lieve I  meant  what  I  said.  I  love  you 
more  to-night  than  any  time  since  I  first 
met  you.  Why,  men,  I  would  lay  down 
my  life  that  Ranney  is  one  of  the  best  and 
whitest  Christians  in  Xew  York  to-night. 
It  ain't  the  big  things  that  a  man  does 
that  show  his  real  character.  No,  it's  the 
little  things.  I  have  watched  Ranney,  been 
with  him ;  his  sorrows  are  my  sorrows,  his 
joys  my  joys.  I  can't  say  any  more  to- 
night.' 

"  Dave  begged  me  to  stay.  Mr.  Sey- 
mour came  down  to  speak  to  me,  but  I'd 


116  Dave    Ranney 

done  what  I  came  to  do,  and  I  had  got 
out  quick — from  Heaven  to  Hell,  from 
my  Christian  pal  to  my  pal  in  crime  at 
the  card-table. 

"  I've  never  been  converted.  If  I  was 
I'd  go  like  my  pal  Ranney  out  in  the  world 
and  tell  how  God  saved  me,  and  not  let  the 
ministers  do  all  the  talking.  At  present 
all  I  can  say  is,  'God  bless  my  pal! 
and  some  of  these  days  perhaps  I'll  be 
with  him  on  the  platform  telling  what 
God  did  for  me.    God  speed  the  day !' " 

TRIED  IN  THE   FIRE 

I  had  been  sexton  for  over  five  years, 
and  had  been  greatly  blessed,  when  my 
wife  became  ill.  Things  did  not  always 
run  smoothly,  for  there  are  ups  and  downs 
even  in  a  sexton's  life,  a«id  I  had  mine. 
When  Mary  and  I  took  up  again  I  de- 
termined to  do  all  in  my  power  to  make 
amends  for  my  former  treatment  of  her, 
to  make  life  as  pleasant  for  her  as 
I  could,  and  I  did.    When  she  was  first 


Promoted  117 

taken  sick  I  sent  her  and  the  boy  over 
to  Ireland  to  visit  her  parents,  thinking 
the  change  would  do  her  good.  She  was 
better  for  a  little  while,  but  on  the  14th  of 
^larch,  1902,  she  died.  JNIy  boy  and  I 
were  at  her  bedside  and  promised  to  meet 
her  on  the  other  side,  and  with  the  help  of 
God  we  are  going  to  keep  our  word. 

You  know  there  are  always  "knock- 
ers," and  I  knew  quite  a  few.  In  every 
church  and  society  there  they  are  with 
their  little  hatchets  ready  to  trim  and 
knock  any  one  that  goes  ahead  of  them. 
Some  of  these  people  said  of  me,  "Oh, 
Ranney  is  under  Christian  influences.  He 
is  sexton.  He  is  afraid.  Wait  until  he 
runs  up  against  a  lot  of  trouble,  then  he 
will  go  back  to  the  Bowery  again  and 
drink  worse  than  ever."  I  do  think  some 
of  those  people  would  have  liked  to  see 
it  happen.  I've  seen  one  of  them  in  a 
sanitarium  to  be  treated  for  drink  who 
was  my  worst  knocker,  and  I  told  him  I 
would  pray  for  him.     I'm  not  talking  of 


118  Dave    Ranney 

the  good  Christian  people.  They  don't 
know  how  to  "knock,"  and  I  thank  God 
for  all  such.  I  had  a  thousand  friends 
for  every  "  knocker,"  and  they  were  ready 
to  help  me  with  kind  words,  money,  or  in 
any  other  way  when  I  was  in  trouble. 

Just  as  an  illustration  of  this  take  the 
act  of  the  poor  fellows  of  the  Midnight 
Mission  in  Chinatown  when  my  wife  died. 
They  wanted  to  show  their  sympathy 
and  their  love,  and  a  delegation  of  them 
came  in  a  body  and  placed  a  wreath  on 
Mary's  coffin.  I  learned  afterwards  how 
they  all  chipped  in  for  the  collection — 
some  a  few  cents,  some  a  nickel.  Don't 
think  for  a  moment  that  the  Bowery 
down-and-out  has  no  heart,  for  it  isn't  so. 
Many  a  tough-looking  fellow  with  a  jum- 
per instead  of  a  shirt  has  one  of  the  truest 
hearts  that  beats.  I  only  wish  I  could 
help  them  more  than  I  do. 

."When  God  took  jNIary  away  I  thought 
it  was  hard,  and  I  was  sore  and  ready  to 
do  anything,  I  didn't  care  what.     There 


Promoted  119 

was  a  lady,  Miss  Brown,  a  trained  nurse, 
who  had  been  with  Mary  all  through  her 
illness,  whose  cheering  words  did  me  a 
wonderful  lot  of  good.  One  thing  she  said 
was,  ".Trust."    God  bless  her! 

A   TESTING   TIME 

My  old  friend  the  Devil  was  in  evidence 
during  this  hard  time  in  all  his  pomp  and 
glory.  I  could  hear  him  say,  "You  see 
how  God  treats  you !  He  don't  care  much 
or  He  wouldn't  have  taken  Mary  away. 
What  did  He  do  it  for?  Why,  He  don't 
know  you  even  a  little  bit.  Come,  Dan, 
I'll  be  your  friend;  didn't  we  always  have 
a  good  time  together  on  the  Bowerj'^?  Go 
get  a  '  ball ' ;  it'll  do  you  good  and  make 
3^ou  forget  your  troubles.  You  have  a 
good  excuse  even  if  any  one  sees  you."  I 
was  tempted,  but  I  said,  "  Not  this  time, 
you  old  Devil :  get  behind  my  back ! " 
People  said,  "  Keep  j^our  eye  on  Ranney; 
he's  up  against  it;  now  he  will  start  to 
drink  and  go  down  and  out." 


120  Dave    Ranney 

I'm  going  to  tell  you  how  God  came 
and  helped  me  in  my  hour  of  need.  It 
was  the  day  of  the  funeral,  the  17th  of 
March,  1902.  The  people  who  were  help- 
ing had  gone  home  to  get  ready  to  attend 
the  service,  and  my  boy  and  I  were  left 
all  alone  with  the  dead.  We  were  feel- 
ing pretty  bad.  My  boy  had  lost  the  best 
friend  he  ever  had  or  would  have  in  this 
world.  Some  fathers  are  all  right  and 
love  their  children,  but  it  isn't  like  a 
mother's  love.  No  wonder  he  was  weep- 
ing and  feeling  badly. 

We  were  walking  about  the  room  say- 
ing nothing,  just  thinking,  and  wonder- 
ing what  would  happen  next.  We  hap- 
pened to  meet  just  at  the  head  of  the 
casket  (God's  doing),  and  stood  there  as 
though  held  by  some  unseen  power,  when 
my  boy  opens  up  like  this:  "Pop,  you 
don't  want  me  to  smoke  any  cigarettes,  do 
you?"  I  looked  at  him,  astonished  at  such 
a  question  at  this  time,  but  I  said,  "  No, 
Willie,  I  don't  want  you  to  smoke  and 


Promoted  121 

hope  you  never  will."  Then  he  said, 
"  Father,  you  don't  want  me  to  drink,  do 
you? "  I  wondered  at  these  questions,  and 
looked  at  him  with  tears  in  my  eyes.  I 
said,  "  No,  Bill,  my  poor  boy,  I  would 
rather  see  you  dead  and  in  j^our  coffin  be- 
side your  poor  mother,  and  know  you 
were  going  to  be  buried  to-day,  than  to 
know  you  would  ever  drink  or  be  like 
your  father  was.  Bill,  don't  you  ever  take 
the  first  glass  of  beer  or  whiskey!  Ask 
God  to  keep  you  from  it.'* 

I  wondered  what  was  coming  next,  but 
I  didn't  have  to  wait  long.  The  boy  said, 
"The  people  are  watching  you  and  say 
you  won't  come  back  from  the  grave  with- 
out having  a  drink,  and  that  you  won't  be 
sober  a  week  from  now.  Pop,  trust  in  the 
God  that  saved  you  ten  years  ago,  won't 
you?  You  know  we  promised  to  meet 
mother.  Fool  these  people  and  let  them 
see  that  you  are  the  man  and  father  I 
love." 

I  straightened  up,  looked  at  the  lad, 


122  Dave    Ranney 

and  out  went  my  hand.  We  shook  hands 
and  I  said,  "  Son,  with  the  help  of  God 
I'll  never  drink  again."  And  there  at  the 
head  of  the  coffin  we  knelt  and  asked  God 
to  help  us  and  make  us  men  such  as  He 
would  have  us  be ;  we  asked  it  in  the  name 
and  for  the  sake  of  the  Christ  who  died 
for  us. 

That  was  March  17,  1902,  and  we  have 
kept  the  faith  up  to  the  present  time. 

I'll  never  forget  that  prayer.  Don't 
you  think  it  pays  to  be  on  the  level  with 
God?  If  you  ask  Him  to  help  you  He 
will.  Just  trust  Him  and  have  a  little 
backbone,  and  you  will  win  out  every  time. 
I  know  now  that  this  experience  was  God 
teaching  me  a  lesson  and  drawing  me 
closer  to  Him. 

Things  went  differently  now;  I  could 
not  run  the  church  very  well  alone,  so 
after  a  few  months  I  handed  in  my  res- 
ignation. The  trustees  wanted  me  to 
stay,  but  I  couldn't;  sad  memories  would 


Promoted  123 

come  up,  and  I  simply  had  to  go.  I  left 
the  old  church  where  I  had  spent  so  many 
happy  days  with  a  record  of  ten  years 
that  money  could  not  buy.  I  go  there 
once  in  a  while  even  now. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE    MISSION     IN 
CHINATOWN 

ABOUT  two  years  previous  to  my 
'^  wife's  death  a  man,  Mr.  H.  Gould, 
called  on  me  and  asked  me  if  I  was  the 
Ranney  that  was  converted  on  the  Bow- 
ery. I  .said,  "  Yes,  I  was  saved  about  ten 
years  ago."  He  said,  "  I've  a  proposal  to 
make.  I  hear  you  are  a  natural-born 
leader  of  men,  and  I  think  you  look  it. 
I'm  one  of  the  trustees  of  the  ^Midnight 
Mission  in  Chinatown.  It's  a  hard  place, 
but  will  you  come  and  take  charge  of  it? 
I  can't  keep  any  one  there  longer  than  a 
few  weeks;  they  get  drunk  or  are  licked 
or  done  up  some  way.  I  want  some  one 
with  backbone;  will  you  take  it?"  I 
thanked  him.  He  had  said  enough  to 
make  any  one  refuse  a  job  like  that,  but 

124 


The  Chinatown  Mission     125 

I  knew  all  the  ins  and  outs  of  that  quar- 
ter, and  I  thought  I'd  like  the  work.  I 
asked  God's  guidance,  and  I  spoke  with 
Mr.  Dennison,  the  pastor  of  the  Church 
of  Sea  and  Land,  and  he  said  it  was  won- 
derful the  way  God  was  leading  me.  "  Go 
and  see  what  it's  like,"  he  said.  "  Try  it. 
You  can  run  the  church  also,  hut  if  you 
see  you  can't  get  along,  give  it  up." 

]My  wife  and  boy  were  planning  to  go 
on  a  visit  to  Ireland  to  see  if  it  would  im- 
prove her  health,  and  when  I  told  her  of 
JMr.  Gould's  proposal  she  did  not  want 
me  to  go:  she  was  afraid  I'd  get  killed. 
But  I  said  it  would  help  to  pass  the  time 
away  until  she  came  back.  So  in  1900  I 
took  charge  of  the  Chinatown  Midnight 
INIission,  remained  there  six  years,  and  left 
to  be  a  lodging-house  missionary. 

I  well  remember  the  first  night.  There 
sat  some  of  the  old  gang.  They  gave  me 
the  glad  hand,  and  asked  me  if  I  was 
going  to  be  the  bouncer;  if  so,  I  could 
count  on  them.    I  said.    "  Yes,  I'm  to  be 


126  Dave    Ranney 

the  '  main  guy,'  bouncer,  etc."  They  were 
pleased,  and  gave  me  credit  of  always  be- 
ing on  the  level.  I  made  lots  of  friends 
while  there. 

LEADING  A   MEETING 

I  never  had  to  use  force  to  keep  order 
but  once  while  in  that  Mission.  I  had  been 
in  charge  two  months  or  so  when  I  got 
notice  that  the  leader  would  not  be  there 
that  night,  so  it  was  up  to  me  to  lead  the 
meeting.  I'll  never  forget  that  night. 
There  are  some  things  a  person  can't  for- 
get, and  that  was  one  of  them. 

It  was  snowing  and  very  cold  outside, 
and  the  Mission  was  packed  with  men 
and  a  few  women.  These  poor  creatures 
had  no  place  to  go,  no  home;  they  were 
outcasts,  there  through  various  sins,  but 
mostly  through  love  of  rum.  I  hoped 
some  visitor  would  come  in  and  I  would 
get  him  to  lead,  but  no  one  came,  and  it 
was  up  to  me  to  give  the  boys  a  talk.  I 
had  never  forgotten  my  first  sermon  at 


r.    KKADIXG    KOOM,    SnUlKKEI,    INX. 
MKN's    club    at    CHUKCII    OK    SEA    AND    I.AM). 


The  Chinatown  Mission     127 

the  church,  so,  asking  God  to  help  me,  I 
went  on  the  platform.  I  read  the  story 
of  the  Prodigal  Son.  .That  was  easy ;  the 
hard  part  was  to  come  later  on.  I  asked 
if  some  one  would  play  the  piano,  and  a 
young  fellow  came  up  that  looked  as 
though  he  hadn't  had  a  meal  or  slept  in  a 
bed  in  a  month,  but  when  he  touched  the 
keys  I  knew  he  was  a  master.  I  found 
out  later  that  he  was  a  prodigal,  had  left 
home,  spent  all,  and  was  on  the  Bowery 
living  on  the  husks. 

We  began  by  singing  a  hymn,  after 
which  I  got  up  and  began  to  talk  to  the 
men.  I  gave  my  testimony,  how  God  had 
saved  me  from  a  life  of  crookedness  and 
crime,  and  that  I  was  no  better  than  the 
worst  man  on  the  Bowery,  except  by  the 
grace  of  God.  There  was  one  big  fellow 
sitting  in  the  front  row  who  was  trying 
to  guy  me.  While  I  was  talking  he  would 
make  all  sorts  of  remarks,  such  as,  "  Oh, 
what  do  you  know  about  it?  Go  away 
back  and  sit  down,"  etc.    I  asked  him  to 


128  Dave    Ranney 

keep  still  or  he  would  have  to  get  out.  I 
went  on  trying  to  talk,  but  that  man  would 
always  answer  back  with  some  foolish  re- 
mark. He  was  trying  to  stop  the  meet- 
ing— so  he  told  me  afterwards. 

There  I  was.  I  could  not  go  on  if  he 
did,  and  I  told  him  that  when  I  got  through 
I  would  give  him  a  chance  to  talk.  Now 
there  were  over  four  hundred  men  look- 
ing at  me,  wondering  what  I  would  do. 
Some  of  my  old  pals  shouted,  "  Put  him 
out,  Danny!"  and  the  meeting  was  in  an 
uproar.  I  knew  if  I  did  not  run  that 
meeting,  or  if  I  showed  the  "  white 
feather,"  I  was  done  as  a  leader  or  any- 
thing else  connected  with  that  place.  I 
said  to  him,  "My  friend,  if  you  don't 
keep  still  I'll  make  an  example  of  you." 
I  could  have  called  the  police  and  had  him 
locked  up,  but  I  didn't  want  any  one  to  go 
behind  bars  and  know  that  I  had  him  put 
there.  I  had  been  there  and  that  was 
enough.  I've  never  had  one  of  these  poor 
men  arrested  in  my  life.    I  used  kindness. 


The   Chinatown   Mission     129 

I  began  to  talk  again,  and  he  started 
in  again,  but  before  he  got  many  words 
out  of  his  mouth  I  gave  him  a  swinging 
upper  cut  which  landed  on  the  point  of 
his  jaw,  lifting  him  about  two  feet,  and 
down  he  went  on  his  back.  My  old  pals 
came  up  to  help,  but  I  said,  "  Sit  down, 
men;  I  can  handle  two  like  that  fellow." 
I  called  out  a  hymn;  then  I  told  him  to 
get  up,  and  if  he  thought  he  could  behave 
himself  he  might  sit  down,  if  not,  he  could 
get  out.  Well,  he  sat  down  and  was  as 
good  as  could  be. 

That  was  the  making  of  me.  The  men 
all  saw  it.  They  knew  that  I  was  one  of 
them,  they  saw  that  I  could  handle  my- 
self, and  I  never  had  any  trouble  after 
that.  And  the  man  I  hit  is  to-day  one  of 
my  best  friends. 

I  told  the  men  that  the  Devil  sent  in 
one  of  his  angels  once  in  a  while,  the  same 
as  to-night,  to  disturb  the  meeting-place 
of  God.  I  said,  "You  men  would  be  a 
marker  for  God  if  you  would  only  take  a 


130  Dave    Ranney 

stand  for  God  and  cut  out  your  sins.  I 
never  in  my  palmy  days  disturbed  a  meet- 
ing, drunk  or  sober.  I  always  respected 
God's  house.  If  I  didn't  like  it  I  went 
out,  and  I  think,  fellows,  that's  one  of  the 
reasons  He  picked  me  up  when  I  was 
away  down  in  sin  and  made  me  what  I 
am  to-night.  He  will  do  the  same  for  any 
one  here;  why  not  give  Him  a  chance?" 

SOMETHING  NEW 

This  w^as  something  new  for  the  men. 
Here  was  a  man  that  they  knew,  no 
stranger,  but  one  of  themseh^s  eight 
years  before.  He  had  been  in  prison  with 
them,  drunk  with  them,  stolen  with  them, 
and  in  fact  had  done  everything  that  they 
did,  and  now  here  he  was  telling  his  old 
pals  how  they  could  be  better  men,  how 
God  would  help  them  if  they  would  only 
give  Him  a  chance. 

God  was  with  me  that  night.  It  didn't 
seem  to  be  Ranney  at  all.  I  asked  who 
wanted  to  get  this  religion,  who  wanted 


The   Chinatoa\^n  Mission     131 

me  to  pray  for  them,  and  about  seventy- 
five  hands  went  up.  A  number  of  men 
came  forward  and  took  a  stand  for  Jesus. 
It  was  early  in  the  morning  when  the 
meeting  closed.  It  was  cold  and  snowing 
outside. 

It  is  a  hard  matter  to  get  these  men  to 
declare  themselves,  for  they  are  afraid  of 
the  laugh,  but  I  told  them  not  to  mind 
that;  that  my  pals  gave  me  the  laugh 
when  I  started  out.  "If  we  are  honest 
and  have  sand  and  help  ourselves  after 
asking  God's  help,"  I  told  them,  "  we  will 
take  no  notice  of  a  grin  or  a  sneer.  JSIy 
companions  wagged  their  heads  when  I 
started  out  in  the  new  life  in  September, 
1892.  They  said,  '  Oh,  we'll  give  Danny 
a  couple  of  weeks.  He's  trying  to  work 
the  missionary;  he'll  be  back  again!' 
Don't  you  men  see  I'm  still  trusting?  and 
there  isn't  a  man  in  the  Mission  right 
now  that  can  saj-^  I'm  not  on  the  level, 
that  I've  drank  whiskey  or  beer  or  done 
an  unmanly  act  since  I  gave  my  life  into 


132  Dave    Ranney 

His  keeping.  Why?  Because  I'm  trust- 
ing, not  in  man  or  woman,  but  I'm 
honestly  trusting  in  God." 

I  was  satisfied  that  among  the  whole 
roomful  of  men  there  were  not  half  a 
dozen  that  had  a  bed  to  sleep  on  that 
night.  I  didn't  have  the  money  to  put 
them  to  bed,  but  I  departed  from  the 
rules,  and  calling  them  to  order,  said, 
"  Boys,  how  many  of  you  would  like  to 
be  my  guest  for  the  night? "  You  ought 
to  have  seen  them  look  at  me!  Never 
such  a  thing  had  been  known.  It  set 
them  to  thinking.  The  saloon-keeper 
wouldn't  do  it ;  what  did  he  care  for  them  ? 
I  said,  "  Boys,  I'm  not  doing  this ;  I  don't 
want  you  to  think  so.  It's  God  through 
me. 

Many's  the  night  after  that  I  kept  the 
Mission  open  and  let  the  poor  fellows  sleep 
there,  on  the  chairs  and  on  the  floor,  and 
they  appreciated  it.  I  was  winning  them 
through  kindness.  When  I  was  ready  to 
go  home  to  my  nice  warm  bed,  I'd  read 


The   Chinatown  Mission     133 

them  a  little  riot  act  telling  them  there 
were  always  a  few  among  a  lot  of  men 
that  would  spoil  a  good  thing,  ending  up, 
"Be  good,  boys,  and  hav6  a  good  sleep. 
Good-night,"  and  they  would  say  so 
heartily,  "  Good-night,  Danny !  God 
bless  you  and  keep  you!" 

Letting  the  men  stay  didn't  cost  me  a 
cent,  and  there  was  a  big  fire  to  keep  them 
warm  and  it  meant  much  to  them,  poor 
fellows.  I  had  the  Board  of  Health  get 
after  me  quite  a  few  times,  but  I'd  explain 
things  to  them,  and  they  would  go  away 
saying,  "  You're  all  right."  Big  hard  men 
said,  "  If  people  who  want  to  do  good 
would  only  get  a  place  to  house  the  poor 
unfortunates,  there  would  be  less  crime 
and  misery."  I  knew  that  was  true,  and 
I'm  praying  for  the  day  when  we  can 
have  just  such  a  place,  and  God  is  going 
to  give  it  in  His  own  good  time. 

I  had  won  the  boys,  and  I  stayed  in 
that  ISIission  over  six  years  and  saw  lots 
of  men  and  women  saved  and  living  good 


134  Dave    Ranney 

lives.  Many  times  well-dressed  men  will 
come  into  my  place  and  say,  "  Mr.  Ran- 
ney, don't  you  know  me?"  and  when  I 
can't  place  them  they  will  tell  me  how  I 
was  the  means  of  saving  their  lives  by 
letting  them  stay  in  out  of  the  cold,  and 
giving  them  a  cup  of  coffee  and  a  piece  of 
bread  in  the  morning.  I  could  count 
them  by  the  hundreds.  Praise  His  name! 

A   POOR   OUTCAST 

One  night  just  as  the  doors  opened, 
there  came  into  the  Mission  a  woman  who 
evidently  had  seen  better  days.  She  was 
one  of  the  poor  unfortunates  of  China- 
town. She  asked  if  she  might  sit  down, 
as  she  was  very  tired  and  did  not  feel 
well.  "  Go  in,  Anna,"  I  said,  and  she 
went  in  and  took  a  seat.  When  I  passed 
her  way  she  said,  "  Mr.  Ranney,  will  you 
please  give  me  a  drink  of  water?" 

'Now  this  woman  had  caused  me  lots  of 
trouble.  She  would  get  drunk  and  carry 
on,  but  when  sober  she  would  be  good  and 


The   Chinatown  Mission     135 

feel  sorry.  I  gave  her  a  cup  of  water  and 
she  said,  "  Thank  you,  Dan,  and  may  God 
bless  you!"  An  hour  after  that  I  gave 
her  another  cup,  and  she  thanked  me 
again,  saying,  "  God  bless  you  for  your 
XDatience!"  The  next  time  I  looked  at 
her  she  had  her  head  on  the  seat  in  front 
and  I  thought  she  was  sleeping.  Now  I 
never  wake  any  sleepers.  I  feel  that  an 
hour's  sleep  will  do  them  good,  for  when 
the  Mission  closes  and  they  go  out  they 
have  no  place  to  sleep.  They  have  to  find 
a  truck  or  a  hallway  or  walk  up  and  down 
the  Bowery  all  night.  I've  been  there, 
and  it  takes  one  that  has  been  through 
the  mill  to  sympathize  with  the  "down- 
and-outs."  So  I  did  not  disturb  this 
woman. 

The  meeting  was  over  and  the  people 
were  all  out,  when  I  noticed  Anna  still 
in  the  same  position.  I  went  over  and 
called  her,  and  receiving  no  answer  shook 
her  a  little,  but  she  never  moved.  I  bent 
over  and  raised  her  head;  a  pair  of  sight- 


136  Dave    Ranney 

less  eyes  seemed  to  look  at  me,  and  I 
knew  she  was  dead.  I  never  had  such  a 
start  in  my  life.  Two  hours  before  alive 
— now  dead !  I  learned  that  she  was  from 
a  town  in  Connecticut,  of  good  parents, 
who  took  her  to  her  last  resting-place  in 
the  family  plot — a  wayward  girl  who  ran 
away  from  home.  Her  "  God  bless  you, 
Dan! "  still  rings  in  my  ears  and  her  dead 
face  I'll  never  forget. 

Here  was  a  case  that,  so  far  as  I  knew, 
did  not  come  under  the  influence  of  God's 
Spirit,  and  I  could  only  say,  "  God  have 
mercy  on  her  poor  soul! "  but  there  have 
been  scores  of  other  women  whom  I  have 
been  able  to  reach  and  help  by  the  grace 
of  God.  I  shall  never  forget  the  "  white 
slave." 

RESCUED   FROM   A  DIVE 

When  I  had  charge  of  the  Chinatown 
Mission  a  party  of  three  came  down  to 
see  the  sights  and  do  a  little  slumming  in 
the  district,  and  they  asked  me  to  show 
them  around.    Now  there  wasn't  a  hole 


The   Chinatown   Mission     137 

or  joint  in  Chinatown  or  on  the  Bowery 
that  I  didn't  know,  but  I  didn't  as  a  rule 
take  women  to  such  places.  I  don't  like 
the  idea  of  their  looking  at  other  people's 
misery,  and  there's  nothing  but  woe  and 
want  to  be  seen  when  you  go  slumming. 
Lots  of  it  is  brought  on  by  the  people 
themselves,  but  still  they  are  human  and 
do  not  like  to  be  looked  at. 

However,  this  night  was  an  exception, 
and  away  we  went  to  see  the  sights.  I 
took  them  to  the  Joss  House — the  temple 
where  the  Chinese  pray  to  Confucius — 
and  other  places  down  on  Cherry  Hill. 
But  they  wanted  to  see  something  hard, 
so  I  took  them  to  a  place  that  I  thought 
was  hard  enough.  If  you  were  a  stranger 
and  went  into  this  place  and  displayed  a 
roll  of  "the  green"  you  would  be  done 
up. 

We  went  into  one  of  the  worst  places 
on  the  Bowery,  the  women  being  as  anx- 
ious to  go  as  the  rest.  The  waiter  piloted 
us  to  a  small  round  table,  and  we  sat 


138  Dave    Ranney 

down  and  called  for  some  soda.  I'd  been 
there  before  to  bring  out  a  man  or  a 
woman  or  a  girl  as  the  case  might  be,  and 
was  pretty  well  known  as  "  Sky-Pilot 
Dan." 

The  party  with  me  were  astonished  and 
wondered  how  such  tilings  as  they  saw 
could  exist  in  a  city  like  New  York.  There 
were  all  classes  in  the  place,  sailors,  men, 
women,  and  girls,  who  had  lost  all  self- 
respect  and  thought  of  nothing  but  the 
drink  and  the  dance. 

While  sitting  there  the  lady's  attention 
was  drawn  to  a  girl  at  the  next  table  who 
sat  there  looldng  at  the  lady,  with  the 
tears  streaming  down  her  cheeks.  The  lady 
said,  "Mr.  Rannej^  what  is  the  matter 
with  that  girl?  Ask  her  to  join  us."  I 
got  another  chair  and  asked  the  girl  to 
come  over  and  sit  beside  the  lady,  who 
asked  her  how  she  came  to  be  there,  and 
why  she  was  crying. 

At  that  the  girl  began  to  cry  harder 
and  sobbed  as  though  her  heart  would 


The  Chinatown  Mission     139 

break.  After  she  became  a  little  more 
quiet  she  said,  "You  look  like  my  mother, 
and  I'll  never  see  her  again!  Oh,  I  wish 
I  was  dead!"  We  asked  her  why  she 
didn't  go  home  to  her  mother.  She  cried 
out,  "  I  can't!  They  won't  let  me!  And 
if  I  could  get  away  how  could  I  get 
to  Cincinnati,  Ohio,  where  my  mother 
lives?" 

We  got  her  story  from  the  girl,  and  this 
is  how  it  ran:  She  got  into  conversation 
with  a  well-dressed  woman  in  Cincinnati 
one  day  who  said  that  she  could  get  her  a 
position  as  stenographer  and  typewriter 
at  a  fine  salary.  After  telling  her  mother 
about  it,  she  and  the  woman  started  for 
Xew  York,  the  woman  paying  the  fare. 
The  woman  gave  her  an  address  of  a 
party,  but  when  the  poor  girl  got  there, 
there  was  no  job  for  a  typewriter;  it  was 
a  very  different  position.  The  young  girl 
had  been  lured  from  home  on  false  prom- 
ises, and  here  she  was  a  "white  slave" 
through  no  fault  of  her  own. 


140  Dave    Ranney 

A  difficult  situation  confronted  us.  The 
girl  was  in  trouble  and  needed  help,  and 
what  were  we  going  to  do  about  it?  She 
was  as  pretty  a  girl  as  I  ever  saw,  with 
large  black  eyes,  a  regular  Southern  type 
of  beauty,  and  just  beginning  the  down- 
ward career.  That  means,  as  the  girls  on 
the  Bowery  put  it,  first;  the  Tenderloin, 
then  the  white  lights  and  lots  of  so-called 
pleasure,  until  her  beauty  begins  to  fade, 
which  usually  takes  about  a  year.  Second, 
Fourteenth  Street,  a  little  lower  down 
the  grade.  Third,  the  Bowery,  still  lower, 
where  they  get  nothing  but  blows  and 
kicks.  The  fourth  and  last  stej),  some 
joint  like  this,  the  back  room  of  a  saloon, 
down  and  out,  all  respect  gone,  nothing 
to  live  for;  some  mother's  girl  picked  up 
some  morning  frozen  stiff;  the  patrol,  the 
morgue,  and  then  Potter's  Field.  Some 
mother  away  in  a  comitry  town  is  waiting 
for  her  girl  who  never  comes  back. 

God  help  the  mothers  who  read  this, 
for  it's  true.     Look  to  your  girls  and 


The  Chinatown   Mission     141 

don't  trust  the  first  strange  woman  who 
comes  into  your  house,  for  she  may  be 
a  wolf  in  sheep's  clothing.  She  wants 
your  daughter's  fresh  young  beauty,  that's 
her  trade,  and  the  Devil  pays  good  and 
plenty. 

I  asked  the  girl  whether  she  had  any 
friends  near,  and  she  said  she  had  an  aunt 
living  on  Chestnut  Street,  Philadelphia, 
that  she  thought  might  take  her.  Then 
looking  around  the  room  she  said,  "But 
he  won't  let  me  go  anyhow."  I  followed 
her  look,  and  there  standing  with  his  back 
to  the  wall  was  a  man  I  knew.  Here  was 
this  young  girl  made  to  slave  and  earn  a 
living  for  this  cur!  There's  lots  of  it  done 
in  New  York — well-dressed  men  doing  no 
work,  living  on  the  earnings  of  young 
girls. 

We  got  the  address  of  the  aunt  in  Phila- 
delphia, and  I  went  out  and  sent  a  mes- 
sage over  the  wire,  asking  if  she  would 
receive  Annie  if  she  came  to  Philadelphia. 
I  received  an  answer  in  forty-two  minutes 


142  Dave    Ranney 

saying,  "  Yes,  send  her  on.  I'll  meet  her 
at  the  station." 

I  hurried  back,  thanking  God  for  the 
answer,  and  found  them  sitting  at  the 
same  table.  Annie  was  looking  better 
than  when  we  first  met  her.  I  said,  "  It's 
all  right;  her  aunt  will  take  care  of  her; 
now  all  we  have  to  do  is  to  get  her  to  the 
ferry  and  buy  her  ticket." 

There  was  a  tap  on  my  shoulder,  and 
looking  around  I  saw  the  man  she  had 
pointed  out,  and  he  said,  "You  want  to 
keep  your  hands  off  that  girl,  Dan,  or 
there's  going  to  be  trouble."  Xow  I  knew 
this  kind  of  man;  I  knew  he  would  do  me 
if  he  got  a  chance,  and  he  was  a  big  fel- 
low at  that;  but  I  thought  I  could  hold 
my  own  with  him  or  any  of  his  class.  I 
didn't  mind  what  he  said ;  all  I  was  think- 
ing about  was  getting  the  girl  to  Cort- 
landt  Street  Ferry. 

When  w^e  got  on  our  feet  to  make  a 
start  he  came  over  and  said,  "  She  don't 
go  out  of  this  place;  if  she  does  there's 


The  Chinatown  Mission     143 

going  to  be  trouble."  I  said,  "  Well,  if 
you're  looking  for  trouble  you  will  get  all 
that's  coming  to  you,  and  you'll  get  it 
good  and  plenty."  And  I  started  toward 
the  door.  He  came  after  me,  asking  me 
what  I  was  going  to  do.  I  said,  "  I'm  not 
going  to  bother  with  you,  I'm  merely 
going  to  get  a  couple  of  '  Bulls ' — police- 
men— and  they  will  fAve  you  all  the 
trouble  you  want.  But  that  girl  goes  with 
me. 

He  weakened.  He  knew  his  record  was 
bad  and  he  did  not  want  to  go  up  to  300 
Mulberry  Street  (Police  Headquarters), 
so  he  said,  "All  right,  Danny,  take  her, 
but  you  are  doing  me  dirty." 

We  got  down  to  the  ferry  all  right,  and 
the  lady  and  I  went  to  Philadelphia  and 
placed  Annie  in  her  aunt's  house  and  bid 
her  good-by. 

Frequently  I  get  a  letter  from  Cincin- 
nati from  Annie.  She  is  home  with  her 
mother,  and  a  team  of  oxen  couldn't  pull 
her  away  from  home  again.    She  writes. 


144  Dave    Ranney 

"  God  bless  and  keep  you,  Dan!  I  thanls 
God  for  the  night  you  found  me  on  the 
Bowery!" 

"  TELL   HER   THE    LATCH-STRING   IS   OUT  " 

I  was  in  a  Baptist  church  one  Sunday 
night  speaking  before  a  large  audience 
and  had  in  the  course  of  my  talk  told  the 
above  story.  The  meeting  had  been  a 
grand  one.  I  felt  that  God  had  been  with 
us  all  the  way  through.  I  noticed  one 
man  in  particulai'  in  the  audience  while 
I  was  telling  this  story.  Tears  were  run- 
ning down  his  cheeks  and  he  was  greatly 
agitated.  I  was  shaking  hands  all  around 
after  the  meeting  was  over  when  this  man 
came  and  said,  "  Mr.  Ranney,  can  I  have 
a  little  talk  with  you?"  I  said,  "Yes," 
"  Wait  till  I  get  the  pastor,"  he  said,  and 
in  a  few  minutes  the  minister  joined  us  in 
the  vestry.  The  man  could  not  speak.  I 
saw  there  was  something  on  his  heart  and 
mind,  and  wondered  what  it  could  be.  I've 
had  lots  of  men  come  and  tell  me  all 


The  Chinatown  Mission     145 

about  themselveS;,  how  they  were  going 
to  give  up  stealing,  drinking,  and  all  other 
sins,  but  here  was  something  different,  so 
I  waited.  He  tried  to  speak,  but  could 
only  sob.  Finally  he  cried  out  with  a  chok- 
ing sob,  "Sister!"  The  minister's  hand 
went  out  to  his  shoulder,  mine  also,  and 
we  tried  to  comfort  him;  I  never  saw  a 
man  in  such  agony.  After  a  little  he  told 
this  story: 

*'  ]Mr.  Ranney,  I  am  sure  God  sent  you 
here  to-night.  I  had  a  lovely  sister;  she 
may  be  living  yet ;  I  don't  know.  Seven- 
teen years  ago  she  went  out  to  take  a 
music  lesson,  and  we  have  never  laid  eyes 
on  her  since,  and  have  never  had  the  first 
line  from  her.  Oh,  if  I  only  knew  where 
she  is!  She  was  one  of  the  sweetest  girls 
you  ever  saw,  just  like  the  girl  you  spoke 
about  to-night.  She  was  enticed  away 
from  home  by  a  man  old  enough  to  be 
her  father,  who  left  his  own  family  to 
starve.  I've  hunted  for  them  all  over.  I've 
never  passed  a  poor  girl  on  the  street 


146  Dave    Ranney 

without  giving  a  helping  hand,  always 
thinking  of  my  own  sweet  sister,  who 
might  perhaps  be  in  worse  circumstances. 
Mr.  Ranney,  will  you  promise  me  when- 
ever you  tell  that  story — which  I  hope 
will  be  very  often — just  to  mention  that 
girl  who  left  a  New  Jersey  town  some 
years  ago?  Say  that  mother  is  waiting 
for  her  daughter  with  arms  open.  Say 
the  latch-string  is  out  and  there's  a  wel- 
come. Perhaps — who  can  tell? — you  may 
be  the  means  of  sending  that  daughter 
back  to  home  and  mother!" 

He  gave  me  his  name  and  address,  the 
girl's  name  also,  and  I  promised  what  he 
wanted.  Would  to  God  this  book  might 
be  the  means  of  uniting  these  separated 
ones  and  sending  the  gray-haired  mother 
home  to  heaven  rejoicing!  Oh,  how  many 
a  mother's  girl  is  in  bondage  to-night  for 
the  want  of  a  helping  hand  and  some  kind 
friend  to  give  advice  1 


CHAPTER  VIII 
BOWERY  WORK 

/^  OD  moves  in  a  mysterious  way  to 
^^  work  out  His  ends,  and  I  can  tes- 
tify that  His  dealings  with  me  have  been 
wonderful  indeed, — far  beyond  anything 
that  I  have  ever  merited.  During  all  the 
years  since  my  conversion  I  had  always 
kept  in  touch  with  Dr.  A.  F.  Schauffler, 
Superintendent  of  the  City  Mission  and 
Tract  Society,  visiting  him  at  his  office 
once  in  a  while,  and  he  was  always  glad 
to  see  me.  He  would  ask  me  about  my 
work  and  we  would  have  a  little  talk  to- 
gether. 

LODGING-HOUSE    MISSIONARY 

One  day  I  said,  "  Dr.  Schauffler,  do 
you  know  I'm  a  protege  of  the  New  York 
City  Mission?"  He  said,  "I  know  it, 
and  we  have  kept  our  eyes  on  you  for  the 

147 


148  Dave    Ranney 

last  ten  years,  and  have  decided  to  make 
you  Lodging-House  Missionary  to  the 
Bowery,  if  you  accept." 

Praise  God!  Wasn't  it  wonderful, 
after  thirteen  years  of  God's  grace  in  my 
life,  to  get  such  an  appointment!  Lodg- 
ing-House Missionary — I  couldn't  under- 
stand it!  It  struck  me  as  being  queer 
in  this  way;  the  man  who  under  God  was 
the  means  of  my  salvation,  who  was  a 
missionary  when  I  was  converted,  had  re- 
signed a  few  years  after  to  become  a  min- 
ister, and  now  here  was  Ranney,  the  ex- 
crook  and  drunk,  being  asked  to  take  the 
same  position! 

We  don't  understand  God's  ways  and 
purposes;  they  are  too  wonderful  for  us; 
but  here  I  am  on  the  Bowery,  my  old 
stamping-ground,  telling  the  story  of 
Jesus  and  His  love.  And  I  don't  believe 
there's  a  man  in  this  big  world  that  has 
a  greater  story  to  tell  of  God's  love  and 
mercies  than  I  have.  I'm  writing  this 
seventeen  years  after  being  saved,  and  I'll 


Bowery  Work  149 

still  say  it's  a  grand  thing  to  "be  a  Chris- 
tian. I  would  not  go  back  to  the  old  life 
for  anything  in  the  world. 

Part  of  my  work  has  been  in  Mariners' 
Temple,  corner  of  Oliver  and  Henry 
Streets,  Chatham  Square,  "New  York 
City,  right  on  the  spot  where  I  did  every- 
thing on  the  calendar  but  murder.  There 
I  could  see  the  men  every  night,  for  we 
had  a  meeting  all  the  year  round,  and 
every  day  from  1  to  2  p.  m.  We  invited 
all  those  who  were  in  trouble  to  come,  and 
if  we  could  help  them  we  gladly  did  so. 
If  they  wanted  to  go  to  the  hospital  we 
placed  them  there  and  would  do  what- 
ever we  could  for  them,  always  telling 
them  of  Jesus  the  Mighty  to  save. 

FROM   NOTHING   TO   $5000   A   YEAR 

I  remember  and  love  a  man  who  was  my 
partner  in  the  Tuesday  night  meetings 
in  the  INIariners'  Temple,  when  we  fed 
the  poor  fellows  during  the  winter — a 
fine    Christian    gentleman.     You    would 


150  Dave    Ranney 

never  think  to  look  at  him  he  was  once 
such  a  drunkard!  He  told  me  his  story. 
He  had  spent  months  hanging  out  in  the 
back  room  of  a  saloon  on  Park  Row, 
only  going  out  once  in  a  while  to  beg 
a  little  food.  He  had  sold  everything 
he  could  sell  and  he  was  a  case  to  look  at. 
He  must  have  been,  or  the  proprietor 
would  never  have  said,  "  Say,  you  are  a 
disgrace  to  this  place !  Get  out  and  don't 
come  in  here  again!"  The  poor  fellow 
went  out.  He  was  down  and  out  sure 
enough!  He  thought  he  would  end  it  all, 
and  he  bent  his  steps  toward  the  East 
River,  intending  to  jump  in,  but  was 
chased  from  the  dock  by  the  watchman. 

He  passed  a  Mission,  heard  the  sing- 
ing, and  went  in.  He  heard  men  that 
were  once  drunkards  get  up  and  testify 
to  the  power  of  God  to  save  a  man.  He 
knew  a  few  of  the  men  and  thought,  "  If 
God  can  save  them  He  surely  can  me!" 
What  a  lot  there  is  in  testimony  for  the 
other  fellow! 


Bowery  Work  151 

He  went  out  that  night  and  slept  in 
a  hallway.  He  waited  until  the  Mission 
opened,  and  going  in,  heard  the  same 
thing  again.  When  the  invitation  was 
given  he  went  forward  and  was  gloriously 
saved.  He  did  not  walk  the  street  that 
night  nor  has  he  since.  He  went  to  work 
at  his  trade — he  was  a  printer — and  he 
and  his  dear  wife,  who  had  always  prayed 
for  her  husband,  were  united  and  are  now 
working  together  in  the  Master's  vine- 
yard. 

This  was  over  three  years  ago.  To- 
day this  man  has  a  position  at  a  salary 
of  $5000  a  year!  Three  years  ago  or- 
dered out  of  a  Park  Row  saloon  as  a  dis- 
grace! Doesn't  it  pay  to  be  a  Christian 
and  be  on  the  level !  I  could  go  right  on 
and  tell  of  hundreds  that  have  come  up 
and  are  on  top  now.  God  never  leaves 
nor  forsakes  us  if  we  do  our  part. 

The  Bowery  boys  are  queer  proposi- 
tions. You  can't  push  or  drive  them; 
they  will  resent  it  and  give  you  back  as 


152  Dave    Ranney 

good.  But  if,  on  the  other  hand,  you  use 
a  little  tact  spiced  with  a  little  kindness, 
you  will  win  out  with  the  Bowery  boy 
every  time. 

It  was  a  kind  word  and  a  kind  act  that 
were  the  means  of  saving  me,  and  I  never 
tire  of  giving  the  same. 

A    MISSIONARY    IN    COURT 

I  remember  a  few  j^ears  ago  a  fellow 
was  arrested  for  holding  up  a  man  on 
Chatham  Square.  Now  this  fellow  was 
an  ex-convict  and  had  a  very  bad  record, 
but  he  came  to  our  meeting  one  night  to 
see  the  pictures  of  Christ,  and  was  so 
touched  by  them  that  he  came  again  and 
finally  raised  his  hand  for  prayers,  and 
when  the  invitation  was  given  went  up 
to  the  mercy  seat  and  was  saved.  At  the 
time  he  was  arrested  he  had  been  a  grand 
Christian  for  two  years. 

He  used  to  pump  the  organ.  On  this 
Sunday  night  when  he  was  arrested  I  had 
gone  over  to  the  Chinatown  ^lission  with 


Bowery  Work  153 

him.  When  he  left  to  go  to  his  lodging- 
house  it  was  10:30,  and  he  was  arrested 
right  after  leaving  the  meeting  on  the 
charge  of  robbing  a  man  on  the  Bowery 
at  9:30  p.  m. 

When  he  was  arrested  he  sent  for  me 
and  told  me  why  he  was  arrested.  Now 
I  knew  he  had  not  robbed  any  one  while 
he  was  with  me. 

The  day  of  his  trial  came  on.  Judge 
Crane  was  the  judge — a  good  clean  man. 

After  the  man  had  sworn  that  J was 

the  man  who  robbed  him  I  was  asked  to 
go  on  the  stand  and  tell  what  I  knew. 
I  told  him  I  was  a  missionary  to  the 
Bowery,  and  that  J ,  the  man  ar- 
rested, was  not  the  man  who  did  the  rob- 
bing, for  he  was  with  me  at  the  time  the 
robbery  took  place. 

Judge  Crane  asked  my  name.  I  told 
him  and  gave  him  a  brief  liistory  of  my 
past  life.  He  was  amazed.  Then  I  spoke 
a  few  words  to  the  jury.  The  case  was 
then  given  to  the  jury,  and  after  twenty 


154  Dave    Ranney 

minutes  they  came  in  with  a  verdict  of 
not  guilty. 

My  dear  readers,  suppose  Reilly  (Ran- 
ney), the  crook  of  sixteen  years  before, 
had  been  on  that  witness-stand.  The 
Judge  would  have  asked  my  name  and 
when  I'd  said,  "Reilly,  the  crook,"  they 
would  have  sent  both  of  us  off  to  prison 
for  life.  But  the  past  has  been  blotted 
out  through  Jesus,  and  it  was  the  word  of 
the  redeemed  crook  that  set  J free. 

There  are  lots  of  cases  I  could  write 
about  where  men  are  arrested  and  send 
for  me.  I  go  to  the  Tombs  to  see  them, 
and  as  I  go  up  the  big  stone  steps  where 
the  visitors  go  in,  the  big  barred  gate 
opens,  and  the  warden  touches  his  hat  and 
says,  "  How  do  you  do,  jMr.  Ranney," 
and  I  go  in.  There's  always  a  queer  feel- 
ing comes  over  me  when  that  gate  is  shut 
behind  me.  I  realize  that  I  am  coming 
out  in  an  hour  or  so,  but  there  was  a  time 
when  I  was  shoved  through  the  old  gate, 
and  didn't  know  when  I  would  come  out. 


Bowery  Work  155 

a  count  disguised  as  a  tramp 

One  night  in  Mariners'  Temple,  on 
Chatham  Square,  I  was  leading  a  meet- 
ing for  men ;  it  was  near  closing  time  and 
the  invitation  had  been  given.  There 
were  three  men  at  the  front  on  their  knees 
calling  on  God  to  help  them. 

I  look  back  to  that  night  as  one  I  never 
can  forget.  One  of  the  men  who  came  up 
front  had  no  coat ;  it  had  been  stolen  from 
him  in  some  saloon  while  he  was  in  a 
drunken  sleep,  so  he  told  me.  After 
prayer  had  been  offered  and  we  got  on 
our  feet  we  asked  the  men  to  give  their 
testimony.  In  fact,  I  think  it  is  a  good 
thing  for  them  to  testify,  as  it  helps  them 
when  they  have  declared  themselves  be- 
fore the  others.  They  each  gave  a  short 
testimony  in  which  they  said  that  they  in- 
tended to  lead  a  better  life,  with  God's 
help. 

The  man  without  a  coat  said  he  had 
but  himself  to  blame  for  his  condition, 


156  Dave    Ranney 

and,  if  God  would  help  him,  he  was  going 
to  be  a  better  man. 

I  saw  to  it  that  the  man  had  a  lodging 
and  something  to  eat,  when  out  from  the 
audience  stepped  a  fine-looking  man  with 
a  coat  in  his  hand  and  told  the  man  to 
put  it  on.  I  looked  at  the  man  in  aston- 
ishment. He  was  about  five-feet-ten,  of 
fine  appearance,  a  little  in  need  of  a  shave 
and  a  little  water,  but  the  man  sticking 
out  of  him  all  over. 

It  is  not  the  clothes  that  make  the 
man,  for  here  was  a  man  who  hadn't  any- 
thing in  the  way  of  clothes,  but  you  could 
tell  by  looking  at  him  that  he  was  a  gen- 
tleman. I  just  stood  and  looked  at  him 
as  he  helped  the  other  fellow  on  with  the 
coat.  I  thought  it  one  of  the  grandest 
acts  I  ever  saw.  He  was  following 
Christ's  command  about  the  man  having 
two  coats  giving  his  brother  one.  I  saw 
the  man  had  on  an  overcoat,  but,  even  so, 
it  was  a  grand  act,  and  I  told  him  so. 

I  did  not  see  him  again  for  some  time. 


BowEEY  Work  157 

when  one  night,  about  a  week  after  the 
coat  affair,  I  saw  him  sitting  among  the 
men  at  the  Doyer  Street  Midnight  Mis- 
sion, of  which  I  had  charge.  I  went  over 
where  he  was  sitting  and  while  shaking 
hands  with  him  said,  "  Say,  that  was  the 
grandest  act  you  ever  did  when  you  gave 
that  man  your  coat.  What  did  you  do  it 
for?  You  don't  seem  to  have  any  too 
much  of  this  world's  goods.  How  did  it 
happen?  Are  you  a  Christian?  Who 
are  you? "  He  looked  at  me  a  moment 
and  said,  "^Ir.  Ranney,  if  I  can  go  into 
your  office  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it." 

We  went  into  the  office,  and  he  said, 
"How  did  you  find  me  out?"  Well,  the 
question  was  a  queer  one  to  me.  How 
did  I  find  him  out?  I  didn't  know  what 
he  meant,  but  I  didn't  tell  him  so;  I  just 
smiled. 

Well,  he  said  he  was  a  French  Count 
(which  was  true),  over  here  writing  a 
book  about  the  charitable  institutions  in 
the  United  States.    He  had  been  in  Chi- 


158  Dave    Ranney 

cago,  San  Francisco,  and  in  fact,  all  over 
the  States,  for  points  for  his  book.  He 
told  me  what  he  had  and  hadn't  done. 
He  had  worked  in  wood-yards  for  charity- 
organizations ;  had  given  himself  up  and 
gone  to  the  Island;  stood  in  bread-lines; 
in  fact,  he  had  done  everything  the  tramp 
does  when  he  is  "  down  and  out." 

I  took  quite  a  fancy  to  him.  He  took 
me  up  to  his  room  in  Eighteenth  Street, 
showed  me  his  credentials,  and  we  became 
quite  chummy.  We  used  to  do  the  slums 
act,  and  I  would  put  on  an  old  suit  of 
clothes  so  I  wouldn't  be  known.  We 
would  stand  in  the  bread-line  just  like 
the  rest  of  them  and  get  our  roll  and  cof- 
fee. It  reminded  me  of  my  old  life,  and 
sometimes  I  would  imagine  I  was  "  down 
and  out"  again,  but  it's  different  when 
you  have  a  little  change  in  your  pocket. 
A  dollar  makes  a  big  difference,  and  you 
can  never  appreciate  the  feelings  of  a 
poor  "  down  and  out "  if  you  never  were 
there  yourself. 


Bowery  Work  159 

We  had  been  going  around  together 
for  about  three  or  four  weeks  when  one 
day  he  showed  me  a  cable  dispatch  from 
Paris  telling  him  he  was  wanted  and  to 
come  at  once.  We  had  had  a  nice  time 
together  and  I  was  sorry  he  was  going. 

He  asked  me  for  one  of  my  pictures 
to  put  in  his  book,  which  I  gave  him. 
Then  he  wanted  to  know  what  he  could 
do  for  me.  I  thought  a  moment,  then 
said,  "  Give  the  poor  fellows  a  feed  Sun- 
day night."  I  was  the  Sunday  night 
leader  and  I  wanted  him  on  the  platform. 
He  said,  "All  right.  Be  at  the  Mission 
Sunday  afternoon." 

About  5  p.  M.  there  drove  up  to  the 
Mission  door  a  carriage  with  a  man  in  it 
who  said,  "  Is  this  17  Doyer  Street,  and 
is  your  name  Mr.  Ranney?"  I  said, 
"Yes."  He  had  four  large  hampers 
filled  with  sandwiches,  which  we  carried 
into  the  Mission.  He  said  he  was  the 
Count's  valet  and  the  Count  wished  him 
to  make  tea  for  the  men.     I  said,  "All 


160  Dave    Ranney 

right."  I  thought  it  would  be  a  change 
for  the  men,  although  coffee  would  have 
been  all  right. 

The  tea  was  made  and  everything  was 
ready  for  the  feed.  I  wanted  the  papers 
to  know  about  it,  so  I  sent  my  assistant 
to  the  office  and  told  the  reporters  that  a 
real  French  Count  was  going  to  give  a 
feed  that  night.  They  were  on  hand  and 
the  next  day  the  papers  all  had  an  ac- 
count of  it. 

As  soon  as  the  doors  opened  the  men 
came  in  and  the  place  was  jammed  to  the 
limit.  The  meeting  was  opened  with 
prayer,  then  the  sandwiches  and  tea  were 
passed  around.  The  Count,  wearing  a 
dress-suit,  was  sitting  on  the  platform. 
I  introduced  liim  as  the  "  man  of  the 
hour"  who  had  given  the  lay-out  to  the 
boys.  They  thanked  him  with  three 
cheers. 

I  asked  the  men  to  look  him  over  and 
see  if  they  had  ever  seen  him  before.  Now 
the  Bowery  men  are  sharp,  and  over  sev- 


Bowery  Work  161 

enty-five  hands  went  up.  They  had  seen 
him  somewhere,  in  Mission  bread-lines 
and  different  places. 

The  Count  spoke  for  about  five  min- 
utes and  then  sat  down.  He  sailed  on  the 
following  Tuesday  and  I  never  met  him 
again.  He  may  be  in  London  for  all  I 
know,  studying  up  something  else.  But 
I'm  sure  he  enjoyed  himself  when  feed- 
ing the  men.  And  I  have  often  thought, 
no  matter  who  or  what  he  was,  he  had 
his  heart  in  the  right  spot.  God  wants 
men  of  his  stamp,  for  He  can  use  them 
for  His  honor  and  glory. 

A  MUSICIAN  WON  TO  CHRIST 

There  isn't  a  week  passes  in  my  work 
that  there  are  not  some  specially  interest- 
ing happenings.  One  Wednesday  night 
about  six  months  ago  we  were  having 
our  usual  Wednesday  night  meeting.  I 
found  I  did  not  have  any  one  to  play  the 
piano;  my  player  had  not  yet  come.  I 
did  not  worry  over    that,    however,     as 


162  Dave    Ranney 

sometimes  we  had  to  go  on  and  have  a 
meeting  without  music.  I  generally  asked 
if  any  one  could  play,  and  I  did  so  this 
night.  Presently  a  man  came  up  the 
aisle.  I  asked,  " Can  you  play?"  He  said, 
"A  little.  What  number  shall  I  play? " 
I  said,  "  I  guess  we  will  sing  my  favorite 
hymn,  *When  the  Roll  Is  Called  up 
Yonder,  I'll  Be  There.' "  He  found  the 
hymn  and  when  he  began  to  play  I  saw 
that  he  was  a  real  musician.  He  made 
that  old  piano  fairly  talk.  "  Ah,"  said  I, 
"  here  is  another  *  volunteer  organist.'  " 
I  had  seen  the  man  and  talked  with  him 
lots  of  times  before,  but  always  took  him 
for  a  common  drunkard.  You  can't  tell 
what  an  old  coat  covers. 

After  the  meeting  I  had  a  little  talk 
with  him  and  asked  him  why  he  was  in 
such  a  condition.  "  Oh,"  he  answered, 
"  it's  the  old,  old  story,  Mr.  Ranney — the 
drink  habit.  I  know  what  you  are  going 
to  say:  why  don't  I  cut  it  out?  Well,  I 
can't.    I  have  tried  time  and  again.    I'll 


Bowery  Work  163 

go  on  drinking  until  I  die."  I  told  him 
to  stop  trying  and  ask  God  to  help  him, 
just  to  lean  on  His  arm,  He  wouldn't  let 
him  fall.  I  left  him  thinking  it  over,  and 
I  kept  track  of  him,  getting  in  an  odd 
word  here  and  there  and  giving  him  food 
and  lodging. 

In  four  weeks  we  won  out  and  he  be- 
came a  good  Christian  man.  Now  he 
plays  at  our  meetings  and  takes  a  share 
in  them,  giving  his  testimony.  I've  had 
him  over  to  my  home  many  times.  He 
takes  great  delight  in  our  garden  there 
and  waits  with  longing  for  Thursday  to 
come,  for  that's  the  day  he  visits  us,  the 
best  one  in  the  week  for  him.  There's 
nothing  like  the  country  for  building  a 
man  up. 

This  man  came  from  a  good  German 
family,  and  can  play  three  instruments, 
piano,  violin,  and  clarinet.  I  asked  him 
if  he  was  married.  "No,"  he  answered, 
"thank  God  I  never  was  married.  I 
have  not  that  sin  on  my  soul!    I've  done 


164  Dave    Ranney 

nearly  everything  any  one  else  has  done: 
been  in  prison  many  a  time,  drank  and 
walked  the  streets  lots  of  nights.  I've 
written  home  to  my  mother  and  told  her 
I  had  taken  her  Jesus  as  mine,  and,  Mr. 
Ranney,  here's  a  letter  from  her."  I 
read  the  letter.  It  was  the  same  old  let- 
ter, the  kind  those  loving  mothers  write 
to  their  wayward  boys,  thanking  God 
that  she  lived  to  see  her  boy  converted  and 
telling  him  the  door  was  always  open,  and 
for  him  to  come  home.  How  many 
mothers  all  over  the  world  are  praying 
for  their  boys  that  they  have  not  seen  for 
years,  boys  who  perhaps  are  dead  or  in 
prison !  God  help  those  mothers ! 

SAVED  THROUGH  AN  OUTDOOR  MEETING 

Part  of  my  work  consists  in  holding 
outdoor  meetings.  Through  my  friend 
Dan  Sullivan  I  received  a  license  for 
street  preaching,  so  whenever  an  oppor- 
tunity opens  I  speak  a  word  for  the 
Master,  sometimes  on  a  temporary  plat- 


Bowery  Work  165 

form,  sometimes  standing  on  a  truck,  and 
sometimes  from  the  Gospel  Wagon.  It 
is  "in  season  and  out  of  season,"  here, 
there,  and  everywhere,  if  we  are  to  get 
hold  of  the  men  who  don't  go  near  the 
churches  or  even  the  missions. 

One  night  while  holding  an  outdoor 
meeting  on  the  Bowery  at  Bleecker 
Street,  I  was  speaking  along  the  line  of 
drink  and  the  terrible  curse  it  was,  how  it  i 
made  men  brutes  and  all  that  was  mean,  | 
telling  about  the  prodigal  and  how  God  I 
saved  him  and  would  save  to  the  utter-  f 
most.  There  were  quite  a  number  of  men  \ 
around  listening.  | 

The  meeting  ended  and  we  had  given 
all  an  invitation  to  come  into  the  Mission. 
One  young  man,  well  dressed,  came  up 
to  me  and,  taking  my  hand,  said  he  be- 
lieved every  word  I  said.  I  saw  at  a 
glance  he  was  not  of  the  Bowery  type.  I 
got  to  talking  to  him  and  asked  Mm  into 


the  ^lission.    He  said  he  had  never  been  | 


into  a  place  like  that  in  his  life  and  did    i. 


166  Dave    Ranney 

not  take  any  stock  in  them,  but  my  talk 
had  interested  him.  He  could  not  under- 
stand how  I  had  given  up  such  a  life 
as  I  said  I  had  led  and  had  not  taken  a 
drink  in  sixteen  years.  I  said  I  had  not 
done  this  in  my  own  strength,  but  that 
God  had  helped  me  win  out,  and  that  God 
would  help  any  one  that  wanted  to  be 
helped. 

We  got  quite  friendly  and  he  told  me 
all  about  himself.  He  had  just  got  his 
two  weeks'  salary,  which  amounted  to 
$36.00.  He  was  married  and  had  two 
I  sweet  little  children  and  a  loving  wife 
I  waiting  for  him  uptown.  He  told  me  he 
I  had  taken  a  few  drinks,  as  I  could  plainly 
see,  and  he  was  going  down  to  see  the 
i  Bowery  and  do  a  little  sight-seeing  in 
I  Chinatown.  I  knew  if  he  went  any 
?  further  he  would  be  a  marker  for  the 
\  pickpocket  or  others  and  would  know 
!  nothing  in  a  little  while,  so  I  tried  to  get 
I;  him  into  the  ]Mission,  and  after  quite  a 
?      while  succeeded,  and  we  took  a  seat  right 


Bowery  Work  167 

by  the  door.  He  was  just  tipsy  enough 
to  fall  asleep,  and  I  let  liim  do  it,  for  a 
little  sleep  often  does  these  men  a  great 
deal  of  good,  changing  all  their  thoughts 
when  they  wake.  When  he  woke  the 
testimonies  were  being  given.  I  rose  to 
my  feet  and  gave  my  testimony,  and  sat 
down  again.  The  invitation  came  next, 
for  all  those  that  wanted  this  Jesus  to  I 
stand.  I  tried  to  get  him  on  his  feet,  but  i 
he  would  not  take  a  stand;  still  the  seed  | 
had  been  sown.  | 

He  told  me  where  he  was  working  and     | 
where  he  lived — wrote  it  down  for  me.      | 
He  was  bent  on  going,  so  I  said  I  would       | 
go  up  to  the  corner  with  him.    He  wanted       | 
one  more  drink — the  Devil's  temptation!        '\ 
— but  at  last  I  coaxed  him  to  the  Elevated        | 
Station  at  Houston  Street.    He  said,  "I        | 
wish  j^ou  could  see  my  home  and  family. 
Will  you  come  up  with  me? "    It  was  10 
p.  M.  and  going  would  mean  home  for  me 
about  the  early  hours.    But  I  went  up  to 
the  Bronx,  got  to  his  home,  saw  him  in. 


168  Dave    Ranney 

was  bidding  him  good-night;  nothing 
would  do  but  I  should  come  in.  He  had 
a  nice  little  flat  of  five  rooms.  I  was  in- 
troduced to  his  wife,  who  was  a  perfect 
lady.  He  wanted  to  send  out  for  beer. 
I  objected,  and  his  wife  said,  "George, 
don't  drink  any  more!  I  think  you  have 
had  enough." 

^^ow  was  the  time  for  me  to  get  in  a 
little  of  God's  work,  so  I  told  him  my 
life,  and  what  drink  did  for  me,  and  I 
had  an  attentive  audience.  When  I  fin- 
ished, his  wife  said,  "  I  wish  my  husband 
would  take  your  Jesus,  Mr.  Ranney.  I'm 
a  Christian,  but,  oh,  I'd  give  anything  if 
George  would  take  Christ  and  give  up 
his  drinking!  "  He  made  all  kinds  of  ob- 
jections and  excuses,  but  we  pleaded  and 
prayed.  God  was  working  with  that 
man,  and  at  3  o'clock  in  the  morning  we 
knelt  down,  the  wife,  the  husband  and  I, 
way  up  in  the  Bronx,  and  God  did  might- 
ily save  George.  He  went  to  his  business 
on  Monday  sober.    That  was  three  vears 


Bowery  Work  169 

ago,  and  he  has  held  out  well.  He  has 
been  advanced  twice,  with  a  raise  in 
salary,  and  comes  down  to  help  me  in 
my  work  on  the  Bowery.  God  has 
blessed  him  wonderfully,  and  He  will 
any  one  who  has  faith  to  believe. 


JIM  THE  BRICKLAYER 


Wliere  I  meet  so  many  men  every  day 
and  have  so  many  confessions  and  try  to 
lend  a  helping  hand  in  so  many  places,  I 
do  f pi^get  some  of  the  men,  for  it  seems 
as  though  there  was  an  endless  procession 
of  tliem  through  the  Bowery.  But  some 
cases  stand  out  so  prominently  that  I 
shall  never  forget  them.  I  remember  one 
man  in  particular  who  used  to  come  into 
the  ^lission.  He  was  one  of  the  regu- 
lars and  was  nearly  always  drunk.  He 
used  to  want  us  to  sing  all  the  time.  He 
was  a  fine  fellow,  but  down  and  out,  and 
every  cent  he  could  earn  went  to  the  sa- 
loons. I  would  talk  to  him  nearly  every 
night  and  ask  him  why  he  did  not  stop  his 


170  Dave    Ranney 

drinking.    He  woiild  listen,  but  the  next 
night  he  would  be  drunk  just  the  same. 
j        There  was  good  stuiF  in  him,  for  he 
I    was  a  good  bricklayer  and  could  make 
I    from  $5.00  to  $6.00  per  day.     He  told 
me  he  was  married,   and  his  wife  and 
\    two  children  were  in  Syracuse,  living  per- 
haps on  charity,  while  he,  instead  of  mak- 
ing a  living  for  them  and  giving  them  a 
good  home,  was  here  on  the  Bowery  drink- 
ing himself  to  death. 

He  would  often  say,  "Danny,  if  I 
could  only  sober  up  and  be  a  man  and  go 
back  to  my  family,  I'd  give  anything. 
But  what's  the  use  of  trying?  I  can't 
stop,  and  I  wish  sometimes  that  I  was 
dead.  And  sometimes,  Mr.  Ranney,  I'm 
tempted  to  end  it  all  in  the  river." 

I  reasoned  with  this  man  time  and  time 
again,  but  with  no  effect.  He  knew  it 
was  the  right  way  to  live,  but  thought  it 
was  not  for  him,  and  I  thought  that  if  a 
man  was  ever  gone  it  was  that  young  man. 
One  night  as  the  invitation  was  being 


Bowery  Work  171 

given  I  caught  his  eye  and  I  said,  "  Jim, 
come  up  front  and  get  rid  of  that  drink." 
But  he  said,  "  What's  the  use?"  I  went 
down,  took  him  by  the  hand,  led  him  up 
front,  and  we  all  knelt  down  and  asked 
God  to  save  these  poor  men.  I  asked 
them  all  to  pray  for  themselves  and  when 
I  got  to  Jim  I  said,  "Jim,  now  pray." 
And  he  said,  "  Lord,  help  me  to  be  a  man 
and  cut  the  '  booze '  out  of  my  life  for 
Jesus'  sake.     Amen." 

He  meant  business  that  night  and  was 
as  sincere  as  could  be.  We  all  got  up  from 
our  knees,  and  I  put  the  usual  question 
to  them  all,  now  that  they  had  taken 
Jesus,  what  were  they  going  to  do?  It 
came  Jim's  turn,  and  he  said,  "  Mr.  Ran- 
ney,  I've  asked  God  to  help  me,  and  I'm 
going  out  of  this  Mission  and  I'm  not  go- 
ing to  drink  any  more  whiskey."  Then 
almost  in  the  same  breath  he  said,  "  I 
wonder  if  God  will  give  me  a  pair  of 
pants."  That  created  a  smile  in  the  au- 
dience.   I  knew  I  could  get  Jim  a  pair  of 


172  Dave    Ranney 

pants,  and  he  needed  them  badly.  Just 
imagine  a  man  six  feet  tall  with  a  pair  of 
pants  on  that  reached  just  below  the 
knees,  and  you  have  Jim. 

I  said,  "Jim,  you  have  asked  God  to 
help  you,  and  He  will  if  you  let  him.  If 
you  keep  sober  until  Friday  night,  and 
come  in  here  every  night  and  give  your 
testimony,  no  matter  how  short,  God  will 
send  5^ou  a  pair  of  pants."  This  was  on 
Monday  night,  my  own  special  night.  I 
knew  if  Jim  came  in  every  night  sober, 
something  was  doing.  Tuesday  night 
came,  and  sure  enough  there  was  Jim 
with  his  testimony.  He  got  up  and 
thanked  God  for  being  one  day  without 
taking  a  drink.  I  said,  "Praise  God! 
Keep  it  up,  Jim!"  Wednesday  night 
Jim  thanked  God  for  two  days'  victory. 
He  was  doing  finely.  Thursday  came, 
and  Jim  was  there  with  his  testimony  of 
tliree  days  saved.  He  had  one  more  day 
to  go  before  he  got  his  pants.  Friday 
night  came  and  I  had  gone  up  and  got 


Bowery  Work  173 

tKe  pants,  but  no  Jim  made  his  appear- 
ance. Near  closing  time  the  door  opened 
and  in  walked  Jim.  He  stood  back  and 
just  roared  out,  "Danny,  I'm  as  drunk 
as  a  fool;  I've  lost  the  pants!"  then 
walked  out. 

I  did  not  see  him  for  a  couple  of  nights, 
then  he  came  into  the  Mission,  sat  down 
and  was  fairly  quiet.  I  reached  him  in 
the  course  of  the  evening  and  shook  hands 
with  him,  but  I  did  not  say  a  word  about 
his  going  back.  That  worried  him  a  good 
deal,  for  he  said,  "  Dan,  are  you  mad  with 
me?"  I  said,  "No,  Jim,  I'm  mad  with 
the  Devil,  and  I  wish  I  could  kick  him  out 
of  you  and  kill  him."  Jim  smiled  and 
said,  "  You're  a  queer  one." 

I  did  not  give  Jim  up,  but  I  did  not  say 
anything  to  him  about  giving  up  the  drink 
again  for  about  a  week.  He  would  al- 
ways be  in  the  meeting  and  I  would  notice 
him  with  a  handshake  and  a  smile.  I  could 
see  he  was  thinking  quite  hard  and  he  was 
not  drinking  as  much  as  he  had  been.     I 


174  Dave    Ranney 

was  praying  for  that  man,  and  I  was  sure 
tfiat  He  was  going  to  give  me  Jim. 

One  night  about  a  month  after  Jim  had 
tried  the  first  time,  I  was  giving  the  invi- 
tation to  the  men,  as  usual,  for  all  who 
wanted  this  salvation  to  come  forward  and 
let  us  pray  with  them.  After  coaxing  and 
pleading  with  them  there  were  six  fellows 
that  came  forward  and  knelt  down,  when 
to  my  astonishment  who  came  walking  up 
the  aisle  but  Jim!  He  knelt  down  with  the 
others  and  prayed.  I  did  not  know  what 
the  prayer  was,  but  when  he  rose*  he  went 
back  and  took  his  seat  and  said  noth- 
ing. 

A  month  went  by  to  a  day.  There  were 
testimonies  every  night  from  all  over  the 
Mission  about  what  God  had  done  and  was 
doing,  but  Jim  never  gave  the  first  word 
of  testimony.  I  often  wondered  why. 
This  night  he  got  on  his  feet,  and  this  is 
what  he  said:  "Men,  I've  been  every- 
thing that's  bad  and  mean,  a  crook  and  a 
drunkard,  separated  from  wife  and  chil- 


Bowery  Work  175 

dren,  a  good-for-nothing  man.  I  want 
to  stand  here  before  you  people  and  thank 
God  for  keeping  me  for  one  whole  month ; 
and,  men,  this  is  the  happiest  month  I've 
spent  in  my  life.  I  asked  God  to  help  me 
and  He  is  doing  so.  I  only  wish  some  of 
you  men  would  take  Jesus  as  your  friend 
and  keeper  the  same  as  I  have.  I'm  going 
to  stick,  with  God's  help.  I  want  you 
Christian  people  to  keep  on  praying  for 
me,  as  I  feel  some  one  has,"  and  he  sat 
down.  Oh,  how  I  did  thank  God  for  that 
testimony!  You  know  a  person  can  tell 
the  true  ring  of  anything,  gold,  silver, 
brass,  everything,  and  I  fcaew  the  ring  of 
that  testimony. 

Jim  stayed  after  the  meeting  and  we 
talked  things  over  pretty  well.  He  was 
a  mechanic,  but  his  tools  were  in  pawn.  I 
said,  "  Jim,  I'll  meet  you  to-morrow  and 
we  will  go  and  get  your  tools  out."  In 
the  morning  Jim  and  I  went  down  to  the 
pawnbroker  in  New  Chambers  Street,  and 
Jim  produced  the  tickets,  paid  the  money 


176  Dave    Ranney 

due,  with  interest,  and  received  his  stock 
in  trade,  the  tools. 

The  next  thing  was  a  job.  I  knew  a 
boss  mason  who  was  putting  up  a  build- 
ing in  Catherine  Street.  We  saw  the  boss 
and  he  took  Jim  on.  He  went  to  work  and 
made  good.  He  would  always  come  and 
see  me  at  night,  and  always  testify  to 
God's  keeping  power.  He  would  ask  me, 
"  Do  you  think  I  can  get  back  to  my  wife 
and  children  again? "  "  Yes,"  I  would 
answer;  "wait  a  little  while.  Have  you 
written  to  her? "  "  Yes."  "  Got  any  an- 
swer?" "Yes,  a  couple  of  letters,  but  I 
don't  think  she  takes  any  stock  in  my  con- 
version. Dan,  can't  we  have  our  pictures 
taken  together?  I  have  written  my  wife 
a  lot  about  you.  I  told  her  you  were  worse 
than  I  ever  was.  Perhaps  if  she  sees  our 
faces  and  sees  how  I  look,  she  may  think 
of  old  times  and  give  me  one  more 
chance." 

Jim  had  been  four  months  converted  at 
this  time,  and  God  had  him  by  the  hand. 


Bowery  Work  177 

It  was  great  to  see  that  big  strong  man, 
like  a  little  child  in  God's  love.  We  went 
out  and  had  our  pictures  taken  and  Jim 
asked  me  to  write  and  urge  his  wife  to 
give  him  one  more  chance.  I  did  as  Jim 
wanted  me;  in  fact,  I  wrote  her  about 
everything  he  said  and  enclosed  the 
picture. 

Every  night  Jim  would  come  around 
with  the  question,  "Danny,  any  word 
from  up  State  yet?  "  "  Not  yet,  Jim:  have 
a  little  patience,  she  will  write  soon."  We 
finally  got  the  longed-for  letter,  but  it 
wasn't  favorable.  Among  other  things 
she  said  she  took  no  stock  in  her  husband, 
and  that  she  knew  he  was  the  same  old 
good-for-nothing,  etc.  It  was  hard  lines 
for  poor  Jim,  who  was  reading  that  letter 
over  my  shoulder.  I  looked  at  him.  I 
could  see  some  of  the  old  Devil  come  into 
his  eyes.  The  wife  little  knew  what  an 
escape  Jim  had  then  and  there.  I  cheered 
him  up  and  we  got  on  our  knees  and 
prayed  good  and  hard,  and  God  heard  the 


i78  Dave    Ranney 

prayer  and  Jim  was  sailing  straight  once 
more  and  trusting  Jesus. 

A  thought  flashed  through  my  mind, 
and  I  said,  "Jim,  have  you  any  money?" 
"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  have  over  sixty  dol- 
lars." He  gave  me  the  money  and  we 
went  to  the  postoffice  and  I  took  out  a 
money-order  to  Mrs.  Jim,  Syracuse,  N. 
Y.,  for  sixty  dollars  and  sent  it  on  signed 
hy  Jim  ancjitook  the  receipt  and  put  it  in 
my  pocketi- ';:  - - 

Five  days  after  I  was  sitting  at  my  desk 
in  the  JNIission.  A  knock  came  to  the 
door.  I  said,  "  Come  in,"  and  a  woman 
with  two  little  girls  entered.  I  placed  a 
chair  and  waited.  She  said,  "You  are 
Mr.  Ranney.  I  recognize  you  from  your 
picture."  She  was  Jim's  wife,  as  she  told 
me.  Then  she  began  about  her  troubles 
with  her  husband :  he  was  a  good  man,  but 
he  would  drink.  She  said,  "  I  begin  to 
think  that  Jim  has  religion,  for  if  he 
hadn't  something  near  it,  he  would  never 
have  sent  me  the  money.    Do  you  think 


Bowery  Work  179 

he  is  all  right,  Mr.  Ranney  ? "  To  which  I 
answered  that  I  really  believed  he  was, 
and  that  he  would  be  a  good  husband  and 
father.  I  asked  her  if  she  was  a  Christian, 
and  she  said,  "Yes,  I  go  to  church  and 
do  the  best  I  can."  I  told  her  going  to 
church  was  a  good  thing,  but  to  have 
Jesus  in  your  heart  and  home  is  a  better 
one. 

She  wanted  to  see  Jim,  so  we  went 
round  to  where  he  was  working.  There 
he  was  up  four  stories  laying  front  brick. 
I  watched  him,  so  did  his  wife.  Finally  I 
put  my  hands  like  a  trumpet  and  called, 
"Hello,  Jim!"  Jim  looked  down,  seeing 
me,  and  then  looking  at  the  woman  and 
children  a  moment  he  dropped  everything, 
and  to  watch  that  man  come  down  that 
ladder  was  a  sight.  He  rushed  over, 
threw  his  arms  around  his  wife,  then  took 
the  little  girls  in  his  arm,  and  what  joy 
there  was !  There  was  no  more  work  that 
day. 

Jim  showed  her  the  saloons  he  used  to 


180  Dave    Ranney 

get  drunk  in,  and  he  did  not  forget  to 
show  the  place  where  he  was  converted, 
and  on  that  very  spot  we  all  had  a  nice 
little  prayer-meeting,  and  as  a  finale,  Mrs. 
Jim  took  Jesus,  saying,  "If  He  did  all 
that  for  Jim,  I  want  Him  too." 

They  are  back  in  Syracuse,  living  hap- 
pily. Jim  has  a  class  of  boys  in  the  Sun- 
day-school and  is  a  deacon  in  the  church. 
I  had  the  pleasure  of  eating  dinner  in 
their  home.  I  often  get  a  letter  from  Jim, 
telling  of  God's  goodness.  He  says  he 
will  never  forget  the  fight  he  made  for 
the  pants  or  his  friend  Danny  Ranney. 


CHAPTER  IX 

PRODIGAL  SONS 

A   CESSPOOL 

'pHE  BOWERY  has  always  been  a 
notorious  thoroughfare.  Twenty 
years  ago  there  were  few  places  in  the 
world  that  for  crime,  vice  and  degradation 
could  be  compared  with  it.  Many  changes 
for  the  better  have  taken  place  in  the  last 
few  years,  however.  Following  the  Lexow 
Commission  investigation,  scores  of  the 
worst  haunts  of  wickedness  were  closed 
and  vice  became  less  conspicuous.  The 
Bowery,  however,  still  maintains  its  indi- 
viduality as  a  breeding-place  of  crime.  It 
is  still  the  cesspool  for  all  things  bad. 
From  all  over  the  world  they  come  to  the 
Bowery.  The  lodging-houses  give  them 
cheap  quarters,  from  7  cents  to  50  cents 
per  night.    These  places  shelter  30,000  to 

181 


182  Dave    Ranney 

40,000  men  and  boys  nightly,  to  breathe  a 
fetid  and  polluted  air.  Those  who  have  not 
the  price — and  God  knows  they  are  many 
— homeless  and  weary,  "about  ready  to 
die,"  sleep  in  hallways,  empty  trucks,  any 
place  for  a  lie-down. 

Some  of  the  lodging-houses  are  fairly 
respectable  and  run  on  a  good  scale,  and 
others  are  the  resort  of  the  lowest  kind  of 
human  outcasts.  On  one  floor,  the  air 
poisoned  beyond  description,  the  beds 
dirty,  will  be  found  over  a  hundred  men, 
of  all  classes,  from  the  petty  thief  to  the 
Western  train-wrecker,  loafers,  drug- 
fiends,  perhaps  a  one-time  college  man, 
who  through  the  curse  of  drink  has  got 
there.  But  they  are  not  all  bad  on  the 
Bowery.  No  one  not  knowing  the  con- 
ditions can  imagine  what  a  large  class 
there  is  who  would  work  if  they  could  get 
it,  but  once  down  it's  hard  to  get  up.  A 
few  weeks  of  this  life  wrecks  them  and 
makes  old  men  of  them.    No  one  but  God 


Prodigal   Sons  183 

can  help  them,  and  most  of  them  go  down 
to  early  graves  unknown. 

A  REMARKABLE  DRUNKARD 

I  knew  once  one  of  the  best  lawyers  of 
his  day,  living  here  a  little  off  Chatham 
Square,  in  a  lodging-house,  brought  there 
through  rum.  I've  known  men,  lawyers, 
coming  to  see  this  man  and  getting  his 
opinion  on  legal  matters.  He  had  many 
such  visitors  in  his  room,  but  he  wasn't 
worth  anything  unless  he  was  about  half 
full  of  whiskey.  These  men  would  know 
that.  They  would  bring  a  couple  bottles 
of  the  stuff,  as  though  for  a  social  time, 
and  then  ask  him  questions  pertaining  to 
the  case  in  hand.  Then  he  would  imagine 
himself  the  lawyer  of  old  days,  and  plead 
as  he  saw  the  case,  and  he  was  right  nine 
times  out  of  ten!  Oh,  what  a  future  that 
man  had  thrown  away  for  the  Devil's 
stuff,  rum!  Those  lawyers  would  go 
away  with  advice  from  that  man  worth 


184  Dave    Ranney 

thousands  of  dollars,  bought  with  a  few 
bottles  of  whiskey.  He  told  me  he  had 
left  his  wife  and  family  to  save  them  from 
shame.  He  has  sons  and  daughters  in 
good  standing.  They  never  see  him  want 
for  anything  and  pay  his  room-rent 
yearly,  only  he  must  not  go  near  them. 

FORGIVING   rOR   CHRIST's   SAKE 

Where  I  am  located  at  this  writing,  at 
the  Squirrel  Inn,  No.  131  Bowery,  is  a 
grand  place  for  my  work.  I  come  in  touch 
with  all  classes,  and  when  I  see  a  man  or 
a  boy  that  I  think  will  stick,  I  rig  him  up, 
put  a  front  on  him  and  back  him  until  he 
gets  work.  I  wish  I  had  more  clothes  so 
I  could  help  more  men,  but  at  least  I  can 
give  them  a  handshake,  a  kind  word,  and 
a  prayer,  and  that,  by  God's  grace, 
can  work  wonders  for  the  poor  fellows. 
There's  not  a  man  or  boy  comes  in  that 
I  do  not  see,  and  I  mingle  with  them  and 
get  their  hard-luck  stories,  also  their  good- 
luck  ones.     Sitting  there  at  my  desk,  I 


Prodigal   Sons  185 

glance  down  the  room,  and  I  can  tell  at  a 
glance  the  newcomers  and  the  regulars.  I 
can  tell  what  has  brought  them  there. 

Over  at  one  of  the  tables  trjang  to  read 
sat  one  day  a  man  about  fifty,  his  clothes 
worn  and  threadbare,  but  wearing  a  collar, 
and  that's  a  good  sign.  I  beckoned  him 
to  come  over  to  me  and  I  pointed  to  a 
chair,  telling  him  to  sit  down.  If  that 
chair  could  only  speak,  what  a  tale  it  could 
tell  of  the  men  who  have  sat  there  and 
told  their  life  stories ! 

I  asked  him  how  he  came  to  be  there, 
and  he  told  me  the  same  old  story  that  can 
be  summed  up  in  one  word — drink!  He 
came  from  up  the  State,  at  one  time  owned 
a  farm  outside  of  Oswego,  and  was  living 
happily.  He  was  a  church  member  and 
bore  a  good  name.  *'  I  used  to  take  an 
odd  drink,  but  always  thought  I  could  do 
without  it,"  said  he.  *'  Eighteen  years  ago 
I  lost  my  wife  and  to  drown  my  sorrow 
I  got  drunk.  I  had  never  been  intoxicated 
before,  and  I  kept  at  it  for  over  three 


186  Dave    Ranney 

months,  and  when  I  began  to  come  to 
myself,  I  was  told  that  I  had  to  get  out  of 
my  home.  I  couldn't  understand  it,  but 
I  was  told  I  had  sold  my  farm  and  every- 
thing I  owned  for  a  paltry  $200  to  a 
saloon-keeper,  who  I  thought  was  my 
dearest  friend ! 

"That  happened  eighteen  years  ago, 
and  IVe  been  pretty  near  all  over  the 
world  since  then,  sometimes  hungry, 
sometimes  in  pretty  good  shape,  but  I'll 
never  forget  that  saloon-keeper.  I'll  see 
him  again,  and  he  will  pay  for  what  he 
did  I" 

I  gave  that  man  a  ticket  for  lodging 
and  a  couple  of  meals.  We  talked  about 
his  early  life,  and  I  asked  why  he  didn't 
start  out  and  be  a  Christian  and  not  har- 
bor a  grudge;  to  let  God  punish  that 
saloon-keeper.  I  told  him  I'd  been  through 
something  like  the  same  experience,  a  man 
whose  word  I  trusted  selling  me  some 
Harbor  Chart  stock  and  making  me  think 
he  was  doing  me  a  good  turn,  and  I  lost 


Prodigal   Sons  187 

several  hundred  dollars.  That  was  in  the 
years  when  I  first  started  to  be  a  Chris- 
tian. I  had  the  hardest  time  to  forgive 
this  man,  but  thank  God  I  did  I 

I  reasoned  with  that  man  day  after  day 
and  saw  that  the  light  was  breaking  in 
his  heart.  Weeks  went  on,  and  he  came 
to  a  point  where  he  took  Jesus  as  his 
guide  and  friend,  and  to-day  he  is  a  fine 
Christian  gentleman.  I  have  had  him 
testifying  in  the  church  to  the  power 
of  Christ  to  save  a  man.  He  tells  me  he 
has  forgiven  that  saloon-man  for  Christ's 
sake. 

SAVED  ON  THE  THRESHOLD  OF  VICE 

One  afternoon  about  5  o'clock  I  was 
sitting  at  my  desk  at  the  Mission  Room 
when  I  noticed  among  the  men  who 
came  there  to  read  and  rest  and  perhaps 
take  a  nap,  a  young  man,  a  boy  rather, 
clean  and  wearing  good  clothes.  I  looked 
at  him  a  moment  and  thought,  "  He  has 
got  into  the  wrong  place."  I  spoke  to  him, 
as  is  my  habit,  and  asked  him  what  he 


188  Dave    Kanney 

was  doing  there.  I  brought  him  over  and 
got  him  to  sit  down  in  that  old  chair  where 
so  many  confessions  are  made  to  me  and 
said  kindly,  "Well,  what's  your  story?" 
I  thought  of  my  own  boy,  and  my  heart 
went  out  to  this  young  fellow. 

He  said,  "You  are  Mr.  Ranney.  I've 
often  heard  about  you,  and  I'm  glad  to 
see  you  now."  He  told  me  how  he  had 
given  up  his  job  on  Eighth  Avenue  around 
125th  Street  the  day  before.  He  had  had 
a  "run  in,"  as  he  called  it,  at  home,  and 
had  determined  to  get  out.  His  mother 
had  married  a  second  time,  and  his  step- 
father and  he  could  not  agree  on  a  single 
thing.  He  loved  his  mother,  but  could 
not  stand  the  stepfather.  He  had  drawn 
his  pay  at  the  jewelry  store  where  he  was 
working  and  had  spent  the  night  before 
at  a  hotel  uptown,  intending  to  look  for  a 
job  the  next  day. 

He  had  risen  at  8  a.  m.  intending  to  get 
work  before  his  eiglit  dollars  was  all 
gone.  Well,  the  money  was  burning  a  hole 


Prodigal   Sons  189 

in  his  pocket.  He  wanted  to  see  a  show 
and  he  came  down  on  the  Bowery  and 
got  into  a  cheap  vaudeville  show,  and 
quite  enjoyed  himself.  *'  I  came  out  of  that 
show,"  he  said,  "and  went  into  a  restau- 
rant to  eat,  and  when  I  went  to  pay  the 
cashier  I  did  not  have  a  cent  in  my  pocket. 
The  boss  of  the  place  said  that  was  an 
old  story.  He  was  not  there  to  feed 
people  for  nothing.  I  said  I  had  been 
robbed  or  lost  my  money  somehow,  but 
he  wouldn't  believe  me.  He  wanted  his 
twenty  cents,  or  he  would  have  me 
arrested.  Oh,  he  was  mad  for  fair,  Mr. 
Ranney.  He  got  me  by  my  coat-collar 
and  shook  me  and  said  I  was  a  thief,  and 
he  finished  up  by  kicking  me  through  the 
door,  and  here  I  am  down  on  the  Bowery 
homeless." 

Another  young  fellow  gone  wrong! 
Could  I  help  him?  I  urged  him  to  go 
back  home,  but  he  didn't  want  to.  The 
night  before  was  pay-night,  and  he  was 
always  expected  to  give  in  his  share  to- 


190  Dave    Ranney 

wards  the  home  expenses,  and  now  here 
was  his  money  all  gone.  What  could  he 
do? 

I  took  him  around  the  room  and 
pointed  out  the  hard  cases  there, 
wretched,  miserable  specimens  of  men, 
and  asked  him  if  he  wanted  to  be  like 
them,  as  he  surely  would  if  he  went  on  in 
the  course  he  was  starting.  He  said, 
"  Indeed  I  don't  I "  "  Well,  then,"  I  said, 
"  take  my  advice  and  go  home.  Be  a  man 
and  face  the  music.  It  will  mean  a  scold- 
ing from  your  father,  but  take  it.  Tell 
them  both  that  you  will  make  up  the 
money  as  soon  as  you  get  work,  and  that 
you  are  going  to  be  obedient  and  good 
from  now  on." 

At  last  he  said  he  would  go  if  I  would 
go  with  him,  but  I  couldn't  that  night, 
for  I  had  a  meeting  to  address.  I  told 
him  I  would  give  him  a  lodging  for  the 
night,  and  we  would  go  up  to  Washing- 
ton Heights  the  next  day.  I  put  him  in 
about  as  tough  a  lodging  as  I  could  get. 


Peodigal  Sons  191 

for  I  wanted  him  to  realize  the  life  he 
would  drift  into,  told  him  to  meet  me  at 
one  o'clock  the  next  day,  and  said  good- 
night to  him. 

The  next  day  I  met  him ;  we  had  some- 
thing to  eat,  and  I  asked  him  how  he  had 
slept.  "  Oh,"  he  said,  "  it  was  something 
awful!  I  could  not  sleep  any,  there  was 
such  a  cursing  and  drinking  and  scrap- 
ping.   Oh,  I  wish  I  was  home!" 

We  went  up  to  Washington  Heights, 
around  165th  Street,  and  found  the  place. 
We  got  there  about  six  o'clock.  I  went 
in  and  knocked  at  the  door,  which  opened 
very  quickly.  The  mother  and  father 
came  forward;  they  had  been  crying,  I 
could  see  that.  "  Oh,  has  anything  hap- 
pened to  my  boy!"  she  cried,  when  I 
asked  if  she  had  a  son.  "Tell  me  quick, 
for  God's  sake ! "  I  told  them  that  Eddie 
was  all  right,  and  I  called  to  him.  He 
came  in,  and  like  a  manly  boy,  after  kiss- 
ing his  mother,  he  turned  to  his  step- 
father and  said,  "Forgive  me;  I'll  be  a 


192  Dave    Ranney 

better  boy  and  I'll  make  everything  all 
right  when  I  get  a  job.  This  is  Mr.  Ran- 
ney,  the  Bowery  missionary."  I  went  in 
and  was  asked  to  stay  for  supper,  and  we 
had  an  earnest  talk,  leading  to  the  father 
giving  up  beer.  What  he  was  going  to 
drink  for  supper  was  thrown  into  the 
sink.  I  see  these  people  occasionally,  and 
they  are  doing  well. 

THE   PRODIGAL  SON   ON   THE   BOWERY 

Here  is  a  picture  story  of  a  boy  who 
left  home  and  took  his  journey  to  the 
"  far  country."      It  is  a  true  story. 

Away  up  in  northern  New  York  there 
is  a  rich  man  whose  family  consists  of  a 
wife,  two  sons  and  a  daughter,  all  good 
church  memT)ers.  It  is  of  the  younger 
boy  I  want  to  '^eak.  He  is  a  little  way- 
ward, but  good  ^  heart,  and  would  do 
anything  to  help  any  .^ne. 

Now,  there  has  lately  come  back  from 
New  York  a  young  man  who  has  started 
the  drink  habit.     This  man  is  telling  all 


Prodigal   Sons  193 

aHoiit  New  York,  what  a  grand  place  it 
is,  and,  if  a  fellow  had  a  little  money, 
he  could  make  a  fortune.  He  succeeds 
in  arousing  the  fancies  of  this  young  boy, 
and  he  believes  all  the  fellow  says.  Peo- 
ple up  the  State  look  on  a  man  as  sort  of 
a  hero  because  he  has  been  to  New  York. 

Tom  thinks  he  would  like  to  go  to  the 
city,  and  when  he  gets  home  he  broaches 
the  subject  to  his  mother.    He  says,  "  I'll  ^: 
get  a  job  and  make  a  man  of  myself."  I 
■The  mother  tells  him  he  had  better  stay  | 
at  home  and  perhaps  later  on  he  would  | 
have  a  chance  to  start  a  business  in  thef 
village  where  he  was  born.    No,  nothing? 
but   New   York   will  do   for  him.     He 
teases  his  father  and  mother  nearly  to 
death,  until  his  father  says,  "Well,  my| 
boy,  if  you  will,  you  will."    Then  he  gives  | 
him  a  couple  hundred  dollars  and  a  letter  | 
to  a  merchant  whom  he  knows.  | 

Tom  packs  his  valise  and  is  all  ready  to  ! 
start.     I  can  see  the  mother  putting  a 
Testament  into  her  boy's  hand  and  telling  , 


194  Dave    Ranney 

him  to  read  it  once  a  day  and  be  sure  to 
write  home  often.  Oh,  he  promises  all 
rights  and  is  anxious  to  get  away  in  a 
hurry.  \  I  can  see  them  in  the  railroad 
station  when  the  mother  takes  him  to  her 
bosom  and^  kisses  him.  There's  a  dry 
choking  in  t^^  father's  throat  when  he 
bids  him  good-by — and  then  the  train  is 
off! 

Now,  Tom  has  a  chum  in  New  York, 
so  at  the  first  statioiif.  at  which  they  stop 
he  gets  off  and  sends\a  telegram  to  his 
friend,  saying:  "Ed,  Ykx  coming  on  the 
2.30  train.  Meet  me  at  tJ^e  Grand  Cen- 
tral Station."  You  may' be  sure  Ed 
f  meets  him  at  the  station — Ed^s  not  work- 
f  ing — and  he  gives  him  the  he%D  and  the 
j  glad  hand.  He  takes  Tom's  grip  and 
I  they  start  for  the  hotel.  I  can  sde  them 
I  going  into  a  saloon  and  having  a  cT^uple 
\  of  beers,  then  going  to  the  hotel,  ^et- 
f  ting  a  room  and  supper,  and  having  a 
good  time  at  the  theatre  and  elsewhere.  ^ 
■'  Time  goes  on.     Two  hundred  doesn't 

i 

\ 


H 


Peodigal   Sons  195 

last  long.  I  can  see  Ed  shaking  Tom 
when  the  money  is  running  low.  I  can 
see\Tom  counting  the  little  he  has  left 
and  going  to  a  furnished  room  at  $1.50  a 
week.  Tom  is  beginning  to  think  and  \ 
worry  a  bit.  He  has  lost  the  letter  to  the  ¥ 
merchant  his  father  gave  him,  and  he  I 
doesn't   know  where   to   find  him.     No  | 

wonder  he  is  down  in  the  mouth!     He  I 

looks  for  work,  but  can't  get  anything  | 

to  do.  * 

Now,  all  he  has  to  do  is  to  write  home  | 

and  tell  his  father  the  facts,  and  he  will  t 

send  back  a  railroad  ticket.    But  Tom  is  s 

proud,  and  he  hasn't  reached  the  point  | 

where,  like  the  prodigal,  he  says,  "  I  will  j 
arise  and  go  to  my  father."  No,  he  has  j 
not  as  3^et  reached  the  end  of  his  rope.  I 
I  can  see  him  pawning  the  watch  and  ,  I 
chain  given  him  by  his  parents.  This  > 
tides  him  over  for  a  little  while.  When  \ 
that  money  is  gone,  his  overcoat  goes,  { 
and,  in  fact,  everji:hing  he  has  is  gone. 

He  goes  down  and  down,  and  finally 


196  Dave    Ranney 

reaches  the  Bowery,  where  they  all  go  in 
the  end.  He  is  down  and  out,  without  a 
cent  in  his  clothes,  walking  the  streets 
i night  Rafter  night — "carrying  the  ban- 
mer."  ^metimes  he  slips  into  a  saloon 
Where  thej^^  have  free  lunch  and  picks  up 
piece  of  blhead  here  and  a  piece  of  cheese 
;5  there.  Sometoies  he  is  lucky  to  fill  in  on 
f  :  a  beef  stew,  biH^  very  seldom. 
'^^  •  Now,  if  that  l^n't  living  on  husks,  I 
^  don't  know  what  yoji  call  it !  His  clothes 
4  are  getting  filthy  and  he  is  in  despair. 
X  How  he  wishes  he  haH  never  left  home! 
He  hasn't  a  friend  in  ^le  big  city,  and 
he  doesn't  know  which  way  to  turn.  He 
says,  "I'll  write  home."  \But  no,  he  is 
too  proud.  He  wants  to  go  home  the 
same  as  he  left  it.  And  tli^  longer  he 
^  waits  the  worse  he  will  be.  Xd.one  grows 
j  any  better,  either  bodily  or  morally,  by 
I  being  on  the  Bowery.  So  the,  quicker 
1       they  go  to  some  other  place  the  better. 

But  the  Bowery  draws  men  by  its  own 
strange   attraction.     They  get  into  the 


Prodigal   Sons  197 

swing  of  its  life,  and  find  the  company 
that  misery  loves.  God  knows  there's 
plenty  of  it  there!  I've  seen  men  that 
you  could  not  drive  from  the  Bowery. 
But  when  a  man  takes  Jesus  as  his  guide 
he  wants  to  search  for  better  grounds. 

Well,  Torti  had  hit  the  pace  that  kills. 
And  one  night — about  five  years  ago — 
there  wandered  jnto  the  Mission  where  I 
was  leading  a  meeting  a  young  man  with 
pale  cheeks  and  a  k)ok  of  utter  despair  on 
his  face,  looking  as' though  he  hadn't  had 
a  square  meal  in  ni^ny  a  day.  It  was 
Tom.  I  didn't  kno\^  him  then.  There 
are  so  many  such  cases  on  the  Bowery 
one  gets  used  to  them.  ,But  I  took  par- 
ticular notice  of  this  young  man.  He  sat 
down  and  listened  to  the,  services,  and 
when  the  invitation  was  given  to  those 
who  wanted  to  lead  better  liv^  he  put  up 
his  hand.  \ 

Now  there  was  something'  striking 
about  his  face,  and  I  took  to  him.  I 
thought  of  my  own  life  and  dreaded  the 

\ 


\ 


198  Dave    Kanney 

future  for  him.  I  spoke  to  him,  gained 
hii^confidence  by  degrees,  and  he  told  me 
his  Story  as  written  in  the  preceding 
pages. 

Here  'i^^s  a  prodigal  just  as  bad  as  the 
me  in  the  &ble  story.  Well,  he  was  con- 
certed that  n%ht  and  took  Jesus  as  his 
pelper.  He  toi^  me  all  about  his  home, 
mother,  and  frierids  who  had  enough  and 
to  spare.  The  servants  had  a  better  time 
and  more  to  eat  thai>  he.  "  Tom,"  I  said, 
twhy  don't  you  go  hpme?"  "Oh,  Mr. 
Ranney,"  he  said,  "  I  Vish  I  could,  but 
i  want  to  go  back  a  littl^  better  than  I 
am  now."  And  God  knows^he  was  in  bad 
shape;  the  clothes  he  had  onVou  couldn't 
sell  to  a  rag-man;  in  fact,  he  had  nothing! 

I  pitied  the  poor  fellow  from  *my  heart. 
I  was  interested.  I  got  his  father's  ad- 
dress and  sat  down  and  wrote  him  a^  letter 
telling  him  about  his  son's  conditioiti  etc. 
In  a  few  days  I  received  a  letter  from  his 
father  inclosing  a  check  for  $10,  and  say- 
ing, "  Don't  let  my  son  starve;  do  all  you 


Prodigal   Sonis  199 

can  for  him,  but  don't  let  him  know  his 
father  is  doing  this." 

Can't  you  see  plainly  the  conditions? 
Our  Father  in  heaven  stands  ready  at  all 
times  to  help,  but  we  must  do  something 
— meet  the  conditions.  Tom's  father  was 
ready  to  forgive  and  take  him  back,  but 
he  wanted  Tom  to  make  the  surrender. 

I  looked  after  Tom  to  a  certain  extent, 
but  I  wanted  him  to  learn  his  lesson. 
There  were  times  when  he  walked  the 
streets  and  went  hungry.  I  corresponded 
with  his  father  and  told  him  how  his  son 
was  getting  along.  I  got  Tom  a  job 
washing  dishes  in  a  restaurant — the  Bow- 
ery  s  mam  employment — at  ^2.50  per 
week,  and  he  stucki 

I  watched  him  closely.  He  would  come 
to  the  ISIission  nearly  every  night  and 
would  stand  up  and  testify  to  God's 
goodness.  He  was  coming  on  finely. 
Many's  the  talk  we  would  have  together 
about  home.  The  tears  would  come  to 
his  eyes  and  he  would  say,  "  Oh,  if  I  ever 


200  Dave    iRanney 

^go  home  I'll  be  such  a  different  boy!    Do 

I  ^ou  think  father  will  forgive  me,  Mr. 

I   Ranney?" 

I  Well,  eight  months  went  on,  and  I 
thought  it  was  time  to  get  him  off  the 
Bowery — he  had  had  his  lesson.  So  I 
wrote  his  father,  and  he  sent  the  neces- 
sary cash  for  clothes,  railroad  ticket,  etc. 
And  one  night  I  said,  "  Tom,  would  you 
like  to  go  home?"  You  can  imagine 
Tom's  answer!  I  took  him  out  and 
bought  him  clothes,  got  back  his  watch 
and  chain  from  the  pa^\Tibroker,  and  went 
with  him  to  the  Grand  Central  Station. 
I  got  his  ticket,  put  him  on  the  train,  said 
"  Good-by  and  God  bless  you ! "  and  Tom 
was  bound  for  home.V^ 

I  receive  a  letter  iroh(i  him  every  month 
or  so.  I  have  visited  Kis  home  and  have 
been  entertained  right  Voyally  by  his 
father  and  mother.  I  viiuted  Tom  last 
summer,  and  we  did  have  \  grand  time 
fishing,   boating,   driving,  elt.     I   asked 

\ 
\ 


Prodigal   Sons  201 

him,  "Do  3^ou  want  to  go  back  to  New 
Yprk,  Tom?"  and  he  smiled  and  said, 
"  ISfbi^  for  mine ! "  If  any  one  comes  from 
New  '^ork  and  happens  to  say  it's  a 
grand  place  to  make  your  fortune,  Tom 
says,  "  NeV  York  is  a  grand  place  to  keep 
away  from.\  You  couldn't  pull  him  away 
from  home  with  a  team  of  oxen. 

"  He  arose  ajid  went  to  his  father." 
Tom  fed  on  husk;^  He  learned  his  lesson 
— not  too  dearly  lelarned,  because  it  was 
a  lasting  one.  He  is  now  a  man ;  he  goes 
to  church  and  Sunday'-^chool,  where  he 
teaches  a  class  of  boys.  0<ice  in  a  while 
he  rings  in  his  own  experiehce  when  he 
was  a  prodigal  on  the  Bower^  and  far 
from  God,  and  God's  loving-kindness  to 

There  are  other  boys  on  the  Bowery 
from  just  as  good  families  as  Tom's — 
college  men  some  of  them — who  are  with-> 
out  hope  and  without  God's  friendship  or 
man's.    What  can  you  and  I  do  for  them? 


202  Dave    Ranney 

last  woeds 

I  have  married  again,  and  have  a  good 
sweet  Christian  as  companion,  and  we 
have  a  little  girl  just  beginning  to  walk. 
I'm  younger,  happier,  and  a  better  man 
in  mind  and  body  than  I  was  twenty 
years  ago.  I've  a  good  home  and  know 
that  all  good  things  are  for  those  that 
trust. 

I  remember  one  night,  when  I  was  go- 
ing home  with  my  wife,  I  met  a  police- 
man who  had  arrested  me  once.  He  had 
caught  me  dead  to  rights — with  the 
goods.  After  awaiting  trial  I  got  off  on 
a  technical  point.  I  said,  "  Helen,  let  me 
introduce  you  to  the  policeman  that  ar- 
rested me  one  time."  He  had  changed 
some;  his  hair  was  getting  gray.  He 
knew  me,  and  when  I  told  him  I  was  a 
missionary,  he  said,  "God  bless  you, 
Reilly"  (that's  the  name  I  went  under), 
"and  keep  you  straight!  You  did  cause 
us  fellows  a  lot  of  trouble  in  those  days." 


Prodigal   Sons  203 

Indeed  I  did  cause  trouble!  There 
wasn't  a  man  under  much  closer  watch 
than  I  was  twenty  years  ago.  Just  one 
incident  will  illustrate  this  and  show  what 
a  change  God  brings  about  in  a  man's  life 
when  he  is  soundly  converted.  It  was  in 
1890  that  a  pal  of  mine  and  I  were  told 
of  a  place  in  Atlantic  City  where  there 
was  any  amount  of  silverware,  etc.,  in  a 
wealthy  man's  summer  home,  so  we  un- 
dertook to  go  there  and  see  if  we  could 
get  any  of  the  good  things  that  were  in 
the  house.  We  reached  the  city  with  our 
kit  of  tools,  and  my  pal  went  and  hid 
them  a  little  way  from  the  station,  wait- 
ing till  night,  as  we  did  not  want  to  carry 
them  around  with  us.  Tom  said,  "  Dan, 
I'm  hungry;  I'll  go  and  see  what  I  can 
get  in  a  bakery."  We  were  not  very  flush 
and  could  not  afford  anything  great  in 
the  way  of  a  dinner.  OiF  he  went,  and  I 
was  to  wait  till  he  came  back. 

I  sat  down  in  the  waiting-room,  when 
a  man  came  up  and  sat  down  beside  me. 


204  Dave    Kanney 

giving  me  a  good-day.  "  Nice  weather," 
said  he.  I  said,  "  Yes."  Said  he,"  How's 
little  old  New  York?"  "All  right,"  I 
answered.  "Have  you  got  your  ticket 
back? "  said  he.  I  thought  he  was  a  little 
familiar,  and  I  said,  "It's  none  of 
your  business."  He  was  as  cool  as  could 
be.  "Oh,  yes,"  he  said,  "it  is  my  busi- 
ness," and  turning  the  lapel  of  his  coat 
he  held  a  Pinkerton  badge  under  my  nose, 
at  the  same  time  saying,  "  The  game's 
called,  and  I  know  you.  Where's  the 
tools?"  I  told  him  I  did  not  have  any. 
"  The  only  thing  that  saves  you,"  said  he. 
"Now  you  get  out  of  here  when  that 
next  train  goes,  or  there  will  be  a  Httle 
trouble."  My  pal  came  in  at  this  time, 
and  I  winked  at  him  to  say  nothing.  He 
understood.  We  took  that  train  all  right, 
and  lost  our  tools. 

I  never  saw  Atlantic  City  again  until 
1908,  when  I  was  asked  to  speak  at  the 
Y.  M.  C.  A.  I  told  this  story  in  my  talk. 
I've  been  back  four  times;  I've  been  en- 


Prodigal   Sons  205 

tertained  at  one  of  the  best  hotels  there, 
the  Chalfonte,  for  a  week  at  a  time. 
What  a  change  I  Twenty  years  ago, 
when  I  was  in  the  Devil's  employ,  run 
out  of  town;  now,  redeemed  by  God,  an 
invited  guest  in  that  same  place.  See 
what  God  can  do  for  a  man! 

It's  a  hard  thing  to  close  this  record  of 
the  grace  of  God  in  my  life,  for  I  feel  as 
though  I  was  leaving  a  lot  of  friends.  If 
at  any  time  you  are  on  the  Bowery — not 
down  and  out — and  want  to  see  me,  w^hy, 
call  at  'No.  131,  the  Squirrel  Inn  Mission 
and  Reading  Room,  and  you'll  find  a 
hearty  welcome. 


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